McWhyNot
by findinghero
Summary: Tim is tired of being in love with Abby, so he goes to Tony for help in getting over her. Tony's solution is not what either of them expects. Along the journey, Tim finds his place with the team. McNozzo slash. Also contains Tim/Tony/OFC. WIP.
1. Chapter 1

Summary: Tim is tired of being in love with Abby, so he goes to Tony for help in getting over her. Tony's solution is not what either of them expects. Along the journey, Tim finds his place with team. Tim/Tony slash.

Spoilers: Through Kill Screen (Season 8)

Rated: M for sexually explicit situations. **Please do not read this if you are underage in your country.**

Disclaimer: Not mine, and no money made here.

Posted with love for the First Annual Apropos of Fanfic Day with much gratitude to Precious Pup for her lead roles as beta and cheerleader.

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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

Keys—check. Wallet—check. Condoms—triple check. Tony smiles, hey you never know. Tony spares a moment to peek at his hair in the mirror, raising his upper lip to make sure the quick bite of Fruity Pebbles he'd eaten after he'd brushed his teeth hadn't decided to stick around for a while. Satisfied with his appearance, Tony steps back to get a longer view. He smiles at his reflection one more time, bouncing in anticipation as he scurries for the door. He throws it wide open, only to pause in surprise at what he sees lingering beside the railing of his third storey apartment.

"Hey," the word is startled out of him at seeing his partner outside his door at 11:45 on a Saturday night.

"Hey," his Probie replies back, straightening his posture and bringing Tony's attention directly to Tim's attire—light blue shirt that Abby once rightly said brought out his eyes and black pants that leave almost nothing to the imagination. "You have a minute?" Tim finally asks as if he's been waiting for Tony to finish appraising him, though Tim never lifts his gaze.

Tony lifts his eyebrows at the ridiculousness of the question—he's about to get laid, after all, Georgia's almost always a sure thing—but his comeback dies in his throat as he watches Tim chew on his lower lip and not quite meet his eye.

"Yeah," Tony answers, stepping aside to let Tim know with his body as well as his words that he's welcome inside Tony's home.

Tim nods in awkward thanks as he steps across the threshold. Tony listens to him shuffle behind him as he slowly shuts the door, locking it by habit as soon as it clicks against the doorframe. He turns back to face his friend, his back against the solid door behind him, the horny part of him suddenly impatient for Tim to spit it out so Tony can get on with his night.

Another ten seconds of silence pass between them, but to Tony, it feels like long minutes. "You here for a reason or just to ruin my Saturday night?" he attacks, and it is an attack rather than the friendly banter that they usually toss between them. But instead of the hurt eyes and pouty lip he's half dreading, half anticipating, he watches as Tim blankly blinks up at him. "Or maybe you'd like to come with me?" Tony challenges, knowing Tim will say 'no,' just like he has every single time—okay both times—Tony's asked him before.

Tim's head tilts just a touch to the right, and his eyes finally focus on Tony's. "Okay," Tim breathes as if gathering his courage.

Tony raises his eyebrows, speechless for half a second while he processes the reply. His eyes skirt down to Tim's attire once again, noting that Tim's clothes are actually club appropriate and very unlike Tim's usual choices—even Tim's normal "dating" apparel. Tony furrows his brow. "Okay," he responds, mind spinning as he reconsiders his plans for the evening. _Next time, Georgia,_ Tony thinks with surprisingly little regret as he watches Tim straighten his shoulders once more.

"You ready?" Tim asks, tilting his head toward the door.

"Yeah," Tony unlocks the latch and swings the door open, "Are _you_ ready?" he stalls Tim with a hand flat on his chest as the other man reaches the door.

"Yep," Tim responds, sealing his lips together at that stubborn angle that sets across his features from time to time.

Tony wraps his arm across his Probie's back and grins at him. Tim's eyes give in first, the mischievous glint that's flickered to life too rarely lately—especially after his recent break-up with Maxine—lighting up his eyes before his mouth turns up in a smile to answer Tony's.

Tony lets Tim go in order to catch and lock the door behind them. Grins still broad on both their faces, the two friends walk shoulder to shoulder down the hall.

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><p><strong>Chapter 1<strong>

Tim ditches his white wine fifteen minutes into the evening and orders a shot of tequila and a rum and coke. He chugs both drinks down in minutes and waits a few more for them to start taking effect. For once, he just wants his mind to stop moving, to stop processing.

He doesn't bother looking for Tony, who'd disappeared into the crowd minutes after they arrived but who Tim knows is keeping tabs on him nonetheless. Instead, Tim watches the ladies as they come and go at the bar, dismissing all of them who have black hair out of hand.

Tim smiles at a light-haired brunette as she approaches the bar beside him for the second time in ten minutes. She catches Tim's eye and smiles back, dropping her head and then quickly looking up to him again. When she angles her body Tim's way, he can't but wonder what Tony would do right now if it were _him_ she was eyeing. Before she can catch the bartender's eye, and more importantly, before he can second guess himself, Tim sweeps his fingers across her wrist, flirting with her pulse. He tilts his head toward the dance floor beside them, not saying a word. She licks her lips, twists her fingers around to meet his, and lets him lead her out to the floor.

He shoulders a couple people aside to form a little space beneath the flickering strobe lights. Borrowing a bit of Tony's confidence along the way, he pulls the pretty stranger's body into his own. He lets his hips move against her, feeling her move with him as he does. She grins and lets him lead. She moves her body with his, sometimes in counterpoint, sometimes in tandem. He grins back at the tease and lowers his lips to her jaw, not knowing if he'll be welcome or not. Not caring whether she'll slap him across the face or invite his touch. She doesn't smack him. Instead, she tilts her neck up to greet him. Her breath catches the second his teeth hit the tendon below her ear. Her hands glide from his shoulders to his neck and into his hair, sending prickles of sensation down his spine as her fingernails part his hair at ten different points.

His lips lead the way to her collarbone, stopping for a nibble just beneath it before tonguing his way toward her cleavage. She arches her back, pushing her stomach against his dick, and yanks his head up to hers so she can kiss the hell out of him.

He moans into her lips, losing himself in the sensation of her tongue moving inside his mouth and against his. It feels so good… And so empty. He doesn't even know her name. He doesn't even know the sound of her voice. He pulls his lips away from hers, gasping as he does. She follows his mouth for a moment, grinning at what she must think is his teasing. She opens her eyes, smile still on her face. He doesn't know what she sees when she looks at him, but she frowns right away.

"I have to go," he says, not knowing if she can hear him over the thrum of the melody and the drive of the beat.

Her eyes narrow, but her disappointment is short-lived. She starts moving with the couple behind her the moment Tim pushes his way from her through the crowd.

He makes it to the door, dodging couples and crowds and one obvious threesome on the stairs. He bypasses the lower dance floor and pushes out through the main exit. He takes a deep breath, appreciating the room to move more than he realized he would. He walks near the blinking lights that advertise the _Fur _nightclub Tony's taken him to. He moves away from the flickering of that dim blue, down the rows of cars to find Tony's Mustang. He sits on the trunk, knowing Tony'll bitch at him if he sees him doing it, but not really caring.

He's not sure how long he sits out there, just breathing, before he feels a light hand on his shoulder. He doesn't start, knowing instinctively that it's Tony behind him. Tony squeezes his shoulder, crosses in front of him, and hops onto the trunk beside him.

They sit there silently for maybe a minute, listening to the music spilling from the club and stretching toward them.

"You left a pretty hot chick wanting back there, Probie," Tony finally gives in and talks first, and Tim knows that Tony speaks as much because he can't stand the silence as because he wants to know the answer to the question he doesn't quite ask.

Tim shrugs, not knowing what to say.

"You had some slick moves there," Tony continues the conversation. "Must have been watching me more closely than I thought," he finishes and bumps Tim's shoulder.

It's enough to get a breath of a laugh out of him. "Must have," he lifts a single eyebrow and smirks. Tony smiles back, but the worry lines between his eyes are thicker than usual.

Tim sighs and looks away, knowing he owes Tony an explanation for crashing his night out, but not sure how to fully communicate the situation to him. "I broke up with Maxine."

Tony nods at the old news. It had been over a week and a half after all, and Tony had weaseled the information out of him after only a few days.

"A couple days before Maxine and I broke up," he sighs again, hating the words about to come out of his mouth. "Abby and I—she said…I mean I thought she was really ready to—" he shakes his head at his own stupidity. "The things Abby told me," Tim continues haltingly. "I thought it was finally our time, so I said goodbye to Maxine." Tim bites his lip, reconsidering his actions for the thousandth time, telling himself once again that he and Maxine couldn't have possibly gone anywhere in the long run, not really. Not with how readily he was willing to cast her off at the mere chance that Abby might want him. Still, it cuts him so deeply in this moment that he threw away something real and good for that vague possibility Abby teased him with one late night in her lab. But it's even more than this.

"I used to love being in love with Abby," Tim confides. "Even when I was pretty sure nothing would come of it, she could still make me feel like the most important person in the world sometimes, and it seemed like it was enough." He bites his tongue but opens his mouth anyway. "I want it to stop. I don't want to come to hate her," he whispers to Tony, "and I'm afraid I will. I'm just so tired of waiting for her to love me back, and I…I know now that she's not ever going to." Tim purses his lips. "Not the way I love her anyway."

Tony sighs next to him and slings an arm around his shoulders, and a part of Tim that was hoping, even still, that Abby might change her mind, dies a little when Tony doesn't even bother to try to contradict him. Tim closes his eyes and leans into Tony, just for a minute.

"I'm sorry, man," Tony finally says and squeezes his shoulder. Tim takes that as his cue to sit back up, pressing against Tony's warmth for only one more moment before he does.

Tony drops his arm, and Tim sees him lean back on it from the corner of his eye. "I bet that brunette's just waiting for you to come back."

He looks over to find Tony grinning in his direction. "Yeah," Tim chuffs and rolls his eyes away.

Tony chuckles and shakes his head. "Okay, so maybe not the brunette," and just like that Tim feels Tony's eyes burning into him. "But there are a lot of women here tonight. I bet you could have your pick."

Tim glances up, surprised, but when his eyes meet Tony's again, he can see the sincerity in the other man's gaze. It is perhaps the most flattering compliment Tony's ever paid him, not because he's implying Tim is attractive or good with women, but because Tony is so obviously placing Tim on par with himself.

Tim can't help the blush that starts on his neck and spreads across his face. "Thanks, Tony," he says even as he hears his partner's soft laughter, "but I'm not so sure I'm meant for this sort of thing."

"So why come out tonight?" Tony asks, the look on his face genuinely curious. "Why not keep going to poetry readings at coffeehouses or those geekfest conventions that are always coming to town?"

Tim can't help but to smile even as he worries over his lip. "I've wanted to fall in love and get married since I was pretty young," he confides, and even though he's pretty sure Tony's always known this about him either by inference or instinct, Tim feels odd admitting it now. "Well, I've been in love for a long time, and I'm not going to marry her, so I'm ready for something else," he finishes and looks back at Tony.

"So why are we out here when we could be making time with some hot chicks?" Tony asks, his eyes holding Tim's, but there's not much of a question in his gaze or his voice, so Tim knows Tony understands without being told. Tim says the words anyway:

"I guess I've always wanted it to mean something when I went to bed with somebody," he blushes and can't help but to look away as he says.

"Hey," Tony bumps his shoulder. "There's nothing wrong with that." He tilts his head, "And besides, you don't have to go to bed with somebody just to have a good time."

Tim raises both eyebrows at Tony, who shrugs somewhat sheepishly. "Can't argue with an altar boy like you, can I?" Tim grins at Tony.

"Yeah, yeah," Tony waves an arm and slides off the car, but he's grinning right back. He offers a hand to Tim. "So what are you waiting for?" he asks.

Tim takes the hand, and Tony jerks him hard, practically catapulting him off the car. Even still, Tony helps him keep his balance, ensuring that Tim'll land on his feet.

"Jackass." Tim smacks the back of Tony's head.

"You know you love it," Tony declares.

"Whatever," Tim comes back and immediately bumps Tony's shoulder as they walk towards the club again.

They both end up going home alone that night, but when Tony drops him off, he smiles at Tim like he doesn't mind at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Tim's very subdued at work the next week, and even Tony's teasing can't quite lure him out. Tony doesn't worry, okay not really, because he knows Tim's not upset so much as he's thinking, and Tony knows that Tim tends to think in an almost violently quiet sort of way.

But it's not just Tony who's aware of Tim's mood. Ziva and Gibbs both watch Tim with a certain intensity that even Tim himself, in his violently thinking mode, seems to notice. Both Gibbs and Ziva try to catch Tony's eye as if they know he knows what's going on, which…alright he does, but he thinks the glares he starts getting by Tuesday are completely uncalled for. It's Wednesday afternoon when Gibbs finally corners Tony in the elevator.

"What's going on?" Gibbs demands as soon as he flicks the emergency stop.

"What do you mean?" Tony gives Gibbs his most innocent look.

Gibbs glares at him a moment before taking the one and a half steps necessary to slap Tony in the back of the head.

Tony winces, more for effect than anything else. "Thank you, Boss."

"What," Gibbs enunciates carefully this time, "is wrong with McGee?"

"Oh," Tony squints, "that," he emphasizes, then shuffles two feet away to the other side of the elevator when he sees the irritation on Gibbs' face.

"You know something," Gibbs leads, circling his hand toward Tony in a gesture of scary encouragement.

Tony pauses, unsure if Tim told him what he did in confidence or not. Gibbs seems to get Tony's new hesitation right away.

"Is he okay for the field?" Gibbs asks more gently this time.

"Yes," Tony answers without delay because he would never lie about such a thing when it came to his Probie.

Gibbs relaxes his shoulders. A bit. "Does he need help?" Gibbs asks, and Tony can see what it costs Boss to ask, knows that it really bothers Gibbs that Tim doesn't come to him.

"He's already got it," Tony promises them both. "It's not—" Tony winces this time without affectation. "The reason he's down…it's related to Maxine, and he just needs cheering up."

Tony's certain that Gibbs can read right through the half truth, but he doesn't call him on it. Instead, Gibbs' shoulders relax all the way, seeming to understand the facts Tony presents are the gist of the problems even if the details are fuzzy.

"We went out on Saturday," Tony offers, more sure of the appropriateness of his words. "We'll probably go out again this weekend," he continues, even though he and Tim had never talked about any such thing. But Tony knows Tim needs this time together, and maybe, Tony acknowledges to himself, maybe he needs it too.

"Out?" Gibbs questions. "You went out? To a bar?"

Tony nods. "Well, a club, yeah."

Gibbs nods and can't quite hide the grin from his face as he moves back and releases the emergency switch. He tilts his head to the side and back to center. "Whatever works," he offers his approval and walks off the elevator and back onto their floor.

Ziva lifts her head out of her cubicle like a prairie dog scanning for danger as soon as both men step back into the office, her features a mix of curiosity and concern. Tony offers her a smile to reassure her, just realizing how worried she's been about McGee. She smiles back, a little reluctantly, but then she looks to Gibbs, who nods just slightly at the question in her eyes. Ziva relaxes back into her chair as the two men round the corner back to their cubicle.

Tony glances towards Probie, who seems to have been oblivious throughout the whole exchange.

"Abby should have the results on those fibers by now," Gibbs declares once he rounds his desk, though he stays standing. "McGee," Gibbs bellows, and Tony can feel the sudden anxiety radiating from Tim five feet away in anticipation of Boss' next order. It's not until Gibbs looks back over to Tony, though, that Tony realizes he, himself, has been shaking his head almost violently in warning. Gibbs pauses and blinks before looking down to his desk in a rare moment of indecision, and okay, maybe Tony can see where Boss was going with that thought considering Abby's usually the first person Tim goes to when he's upset, but _oooh_—Tony clenches his fingers and winces—_bad_ idea. "What's the progress on the plate search?" Gibbs finally asks, and Tony feels a tiny bit of the tension leave his shoulders.

"Uh," Tim stutters, and Tony looks over at him. "Almost done, Boss," Tim reports and slumps in his chair, not so much that most people would notice, but certainly obvious enough for Gibbs' practiced eye to see that McGee wants to avoid Abby.

"Stay on it," Gibbs reaches down for his coffee, "and get some more information on the ex-wife when you're done," Gibbs assigns Tim a job that would usually be Tony's. "DiNozzo!" Gibbs hollers, and Tony turns to find a very pissed off Gibbs glaring right at him. "Go down and see what Abby has," he orders, eyes boring through Tony like only Gibbs' eyes can.

"Right away, Boss," Tony winces and even through Gibbs's glare and Ziva's renewed curiosity, Tony can feel Tim's relief in the small sigh Tony can barely hear coming from Probie's side of the room. Tony glances McGee's way before making his way to the stairs—not wanting to get caught in the elevator with Gibbs again—and there's a tiny smile that stretches across Tim's face the moment Tony catches his eye. Maybe it's not so bad that Gibbs is mad at him, Tony thinks. At least he thinks so until he looks back up at Gibbs, at which point Tony very manfully hustles out of the room.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Tony," Abby greets him with that mixture of affection and enthusiasm that Tony loves about her the second he steps into her lab.<p>

"Hey, Abs," he smiles at her, feeling that affection directed right back her way.

"I don't have anything, yet," she shakes her head and purses her lips as if to contain the smile that spreads across them. "Gibbs would know that," she teases.

"Gibbs," Tony retorts right back, "is the one who sent me down."

"No!" Abby gasps, eyes wide in alarm. "Is he losing his Gibbs-ometer?"

Tony squints, his returning smile teasing a new one back to Abby's face. "I think you can rest assured, Abs. Gibbs' spidey-sense is still intact. He just wanted me out of his hair for awhile. There may have been something mentioned about juvenile pranks," Tony just barely skirts a direct lie because, hey—there may _not_ have been something mentioned about juvenile pranks, too—and shakes his head as if to show the ridiculousness of the idea.

Abby nods and scrunches her features, "And we all know you're not capable of that!" she teases.

"Of course not!" he declares. "Everyone knows how mature I am." He slips his eyes down her body in both a sincere appreciation and a practiced distraction.

Abby's already grinning back at him when his eyes reach her lips. But Tony's smile falters when he catches her eye again. He quickly glances to the nearest screen, not sure if she caught his uncertainty.

"So what have we got here?" he redirects Abby's energies, hopefully before she can begin to wonder about what might have upset him. He pretends to listen, knowing from much practice when to smile and nod, when to tease, but his mind's totally distracted by what he just did.

Tony hadn't given it a thought when he teased Abby with his eyes, and he doubts she did either, but what if it was something that bothered Tim whenever he saw Tony do it? What if he'd made Tim doubt himself because of the little flirtatious things he did with Abby? What if Tim thought that just because Tony's flirtation with Abby didn't mean anything that other men's flirtations with her didn't mean anything either, and it kept him pining for her that much longer?

Tony smiles at Abby and teases her a little less than he usually does as she goes through her latest science-y spiel. He doesn't want her to think she's done something wrong, but he hates the idea that he's hurt Tim by the way he normally interacts with Abby. What if Tim genuinely thinks Tony had planned to or had even tried to sleep with Abby? What if Tim thinks Tony _has_ been with her? The idea bothers him so much he has to make his excuses and leave. Jogging up the stairs, he feels the need to confess everything to Tim, to let him know nothing has happened or would ever happen between Abby and him. But how can Tony bring that up without reopening the wound that had never had a chance to heal?

Surely Tim would have told him if something had bothered him that much, Tony tries to reason with himself even as he knows how blatantly untrue the very idea is. Tim hates sharing his problems with anyone, hates letting people know what bothers him, hates showing any sign of weakness at all. In that way Tim's the most like Gibbs of all of them. Tony pauses on the last flight of stairs and sits smack in the middle of the stairwell.

"Fuck," he finally says to himself. "Just fuck," Tony sighs and runs his fingers through his hair.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Thursday morning brings a new case. Body in Rock Creek Park. Part of Tim sighs and thinks, _again, seriously?_ But he doesn't speak a word when Gibbs orders them to grab their gear. Even when Gibbs directs McGee into the car with him while Tony and Ziva take the van, McGee just raises his eyebrows and ducks his head. Gibbs never wants Tim in the car with him, which means he knows something's up, and with the way Gibbs has avoided sending McGee to Abby's lab all week, he must have at least an inkling that it has to do with Abby.

McGee dreads the idea of talking to Boss about his relationship with Gibbs' favorite teammate. Still, part of Tim can't help but be flattered, okay maybe even excited, that Gibbs has taken an interest in what's going on in Tim's personal life. Or, Tim reconsiders, maybe Gibbs is just irritated that Tim is so upset with Abby that Gibbs feels like he has to make special arrangements for Tim to keep the team working. Tim winces at the new idea. It seems more realistic than the first one.

Gibbs doesn't exactly do small talk, usually just listening to the conversations in the car on the way to wherever they're going unless and until it starts to irritate him. Though the quiet between them seems oppressive, McGee bites his tongue against the urge to fill it with idle chatter, not knowing what might come out of his mouth under Gibbs' knowing stare and not wanting to give Gibbs another reason to get upset with him. Gibbs has always reacted very strongly to Abby, has always taken her side in any argument between her and Tim, and Tim is just not willing to get pulled down further by whatever Gibbs might have to say about the situation.

The only words spoken in the car are details of the case that Gibbs relays from the phone call or McGee finds in their databases. The quiet almost seems to get to Gibbs himself. McGee notices from the corner of his eye how the older man shifts a couple times in his seat after the silence goes for long minutes between them.

Tim breathes a sigh of relief once the dead body comes into view just off the main road that runs through the park. He feels guilty immediately upon having the thought but can't help the feeling of release that comes over him the second he steps out of the car.

Gibbs sets the team to work right away, and McGee makes his way to the back of the van to carry out his share of the equipment. He passes Ziva, her brow wrinkled as they walk past one another without a word. Tony's still lingering at the back door of the vehicle when Tim arrives. It's obvious Tony's delayed walking over to the crime scene in order to wait for him.

"Okay?" Tony asks, still securing the sketching kit in the floor of the van.

"Yep," Tim responds, grabbing the last two bags without any concern except a narrowed focus for his assigned task.

"Gibbs say anything?" Tony asks with forced casualness.

McGee tilts his head in curiosity, something about Tony's posture suddenly making him wonder if the whole team's been talking about him all week. "Should he have?"

"Nope," DiNozzo looks him straight in the eye to say.

Tim looks right back at him. "Huh," he acknowledges the lie but looks away and lets it go.

Tony grabs his arm just above the wrist. "Hey."

Tim turns his head to look at the other man. "Yeah?"

And Tony opens his mouth, but he doesn't say another word, and yet that doesn't even matter because suddenly Tim can see Tony's concern and affection for him written all over his face.

Tim ducks his head, suddenly warmed under Tony's stare. Tim clears his throat and lifts his chin. "You're not worried about me or anything, are you?" McGee smirks at Tony, eyebrow raising all on its own.

Tony squints and stares at him another minute before lifting his hand from where it rests on Tim's forearm to smack him in the back of the head.

"You wish, McEgo," Tony smirks right back at him, but there's no sting to Tony's words at all.

Tim smiles for real then, arguing with Tony about whose turn it is to buy lunch as they walk over to where Ducky's already examining the body. Tony steals the fingerprint kit from one of Tim's bags and runs off before Tim can reach him. McGee gets stuck with sketching, which Tony is really much better suited for but knows Tim hates to do. Still, it's not even five minutes later that Tony yields the kit and takes over sketching, telling 'McButterfingers' he's doing it all wrong. Tim grins at Tony's lame excuse for switching but the new nickname starts them on a discussion of the best candy bar ever. Tim's all for Snickers, but Tony scoffs at him and claims the title for Toblerones, which starts a new argument as to whether imported chocolate is really better than domestic.

Tim gets so lost in the conversation he almost doesn't notice the way Gibbs and Ziva keep looking at him and Tony and then glancing at each other, near smiles on both staid faces. McGee watches them in puzzlement for another moment but then Tony maligns the Hershey brand, and it is _so_ on.


	4. Chapter 4 NSFW

***NOTE: This chapter NSFW.  
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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

While Tony technically had an entire week to ask McGee if he wanted to come out with him again this Saturday night, Tony figures that, in practice, the less time Tim has to mull it over, the less nervous, read: neurotic, he's likely to be at the prospect.

By the time Saturday night rolls around again, Tony's thought it over and formulated a decisive strategy for their night out. First off, he plans to drive over to McGee's and taunt him from his kitchen and eat all his Dino cereal until Tim gets ready to go out for the night. Second, he intends to take Tim to a much less crowded club, almost a casual bar really, and get them both laid _no matter what_.

Tony's sure his insistence on the getting-Tim-laid thing has absolutely nothing to do with his own new understanding of his own flirtation with Abby, but just in case Tim has noticed Tony trying to avoid Abby as much as Tim himself has tried to avoid her this week, it's better to instill the fact that wanting to get Tim laid has absolutely nothing to do with any such thing, so best to stay away from dark haired, tattooed women, or really, anybody Goth.

However, Tony is waylaid from his first step when he gets a knock at the door, this time at 11 o'clock. Tony opens the door with a quirk of his head to find a bashful McGee just outside it.

He has to fight to keep the smile from his face. "Well, come in already," Tony yanks him inside then very obviously examines Tim's choice of clothing—tight blue jeans this time with a green button down and black leather jacket—both hot and cool. Tony approves, but still sighs, "You'll do, I guess."

The way Tim grins as Tony turns back to continue his own routine makes Tony think he hasn't quite kept Tim from knowing how impressed he is by the look.

"The saleswoman said green was a good color for me," Tim confides.

Tony turns back to Tim and shrugs, but finally sees he has to concede, "Well, I wouldn't _completely_ disagree," he offers grudgingly, but the admission is totally worth it when it makes Tim smile once again.

Tony walks back towards his bathroom. Red isn't quite what he was going for after all, he decides, and takes off his shirt as he walks. He sees a flash of movement in the bathroom mirror in front of him as he pulls the shirt above his head, but when he turns around, he just sees Tim nervously fiddling with the remote where Tony'd left it on the back of the couch.

It takes Tony another half hour to finish getting ready. Every time Tim whines at him for being a girl about his hair, Tony not so subtly declares how obvious it is that Tim hasn't spent much time on his own hair. It must get to the younger man because Tim starts fiddling around above his collar in the hallway mirror just as Tony finishes donning a black silk shirt that always gets him good looks and hot eyes from the ladies.

"Come here!" Tony demands finally, not able to bear watching the travesty atop McGee's head any longer. Tim shuffles over to him, snarking at Tony and pretending not to be grateful, but Tony can see the obvious thanks in Tim's eyes as Tony shares his product and styling skills with his Probie.

It's a couple minutes after midnight when they finally get on their way. They decide to take a cab. Tim doesn't bother contradicting Tony when he directs the driver to the club he has in mind, trusting Tony completely with their destination. It's a good feeling, the confidence Tim seems to have in him, but Tony tries not to read too much into it.

Tim isn't quite tense as they approach the club, but he noticeably relaxes as he sees the patrons coming and going and seems to note there's a lot less of them here than at last week's club. He smiles at Tony as they leave the taxi and walk to the small line at the entrance.

Tony leads them both to the bar as soon as they walk in. He buys a quick fuck and an orgasm for each of them. The bartender glares at them for ordering four layered drinks, but it's worth it when it gets him the smirk from Tim that he's shooting for as they down the alcohol. Tony smiles and gives the bartender a little bit of an extra tip.

Tim keeps to the bar for the first hour or so, just like last week, just until the booze kick in. He flirts with a couple girls, dances with them. At least one looks interested enough to want to go home with him, but Tim walks away from all of them, always going back to the bar every once in a while until he finds Tony and catches his eye. Then Tim moves off again to flirt and dance and tease, which he does much more admirably than Tony has ever given him credit for before. Still, the plan was getting them _both_ laid and although events are going _very_ well for him at the moment, it doesn't look quite so good for the Probie.

"I've seen your eyes on him all night," Tony's dance partner—Dana—whispers in his ear. "Do you know him?" she asks, voice still as sultry as the moment she said hello.

Tony turns his attention back to Dana, apology in his eyes. "Sorry, I normally wouldn't be able to keep my eyes off a girl like you," he leans in to tickle her earlobe as he speaks. "He's a good friend of mine." Tony pulls away just slightly for effect. "I've just been," he licks his lips, "a little worried about him."

Dana licks her lips right back to him, her breath hitching. "How," she clears her throat as delicately as can possibly be done. "How good a friend is he?" She's breathing harder now, her voice a bit higher than before.

Tony immediately hones in on the possibilities opening up. Is it a good idea? But then how else is the Probie going to get laid? Tim won't spend more than twenty minutes with a single woman, no matter how much they're panting for him. And it's not as if Tony's never shared a woman with a buddy before. It's just that it's so intimate, and, in some ways, he _already_ knows Tim a lot better than he'd ever known his frat buddies, and Tim surely knows him a lot better than anyone from college. And they'd be watching each other have sex…listening, maybe even talking about it later. There's no reason for it, but Tony finds his own breath hitching at the thought. "He's a _very_ good friend," Tony emphasizes finally.

Dana swallows hard and rubs against him just a little harder. "How about, I go freshen up," she suggests, even more breathy than before, "and you bring your friend over so we can dance and maybe go somewhere and," she pauses, meaningfully, "talk."

He grins at her and grips her a little bit tighter before he lets her go. "I knew you looked like someone who had great ideas," he declares and kisses her neck.

She flushes and grins. "Come right back," he just barely hears, and isn't sure if it's a promise or an order.

"Rrowr," he pulls her in for one more kiss before they part.

Tony spots his Probie at the bar immediately. His eyes are already on Tony and there's a look of resignation on his face. Tony's brow furrows a little, but his pace is swift as he makes his way over to the younger man.

Tim turns away from Tony and back to his drink, even though it's obvious Tony is coming over to him. "You are not going to believe this!" Tony says jubilantly, horniness refusing to be deterred even by Tim's lack of excitement, but then, Tony rethinks, how _can_ Tim be excited when he doesn't even know what's going on yet? Doubts settled, Tony pounds Tim on the back excitedly with both fists the second he's in range.

"You found someone to go home with," Tim says, resigned.

"Nope," Tony smiles, big and wide and pokes Tim in the chest. "I found someone for _us_ to go home with!" He finishes with a flourish and leans back against the bar.

Tim looks up at him with wide eyes and stutters, "W-What?"

For the first time, Tony really doubts the idea. Maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to agree. Maybe he should have considered Tim's reaction a little more, or, you know, _at all_. "Have you," Tony damn near stutters back, "I mean you must have shared a girl with a friend, at least in college or something!" Tony declares, but of course Tim hasn't. What the hell was he thinking?

Tim swallows hard. "You mean, you have?"

"Yeah," Tony shrugs self-consciously, not quite understanding why it seems like such a big deal to Tim, but then Tim's never wanted to be with a woman he didn't love or, at least, _could_ fall in love with. Tony should have thought of that before.

"I—" Tim blinks at him like a deer in headlights. "Okay, let's do it," he answers just when Tony's ready to shuffle the whole conversation backward.

"Yeah?" Tony breathes, relieved. "Are you sure you're okay with it?" Tony feels his brows furrow back into concern even as he feels his heart start beating faster.

"Well," Tim licks his lips. "You know what you're doing, right?" he asks, and it's not only Tim's words, but his fingers too, light on Tony's arm, that make Tony smile wide and chuckle, low and deep.

"Oh, Probie, I _definitely_ know what I'm doing," he agrees readily.

Tim grins back with a gonna-get-laid look that every guy's got even as he bashfully ducks his head.

"Come over and meet her," Tony pulls at Tim's jacket with two light fingers, a mirror of the touch Tim just gave him. "Her name is _Dana_."

"Ahh," Tim nods as if that makes everything make sense, his grin still plastered across his features.

Never in his life has Tony felt so good about the idea of sharing something so intimate with another man. He smiles at Tim and elbows him just a little. Tim elbows him back a little harder but it's a good pain and worth the jab either way to see Tim's face come level with his own and stay that way.

They wait by the pillar Tony and Dana had been dancing near. Tim slowly starts moving to the music, and he's not bad, but Tony could definitely show him a few moves. Before he can taunt Tim, he spots Dana stepping towards them from his left, biting her lip and breathing hard. _Fuck this is going to be good_, Tony thinks.

"Tim, Dana. Dana, Tim," he offers the brief introduction.

"Hey," Tim steps towards her, and if he offers her his hand, Tony can totally _not_ be held accountable for his actions. But the Probie does Tony proud, lifting his hand to just above Dana's ear and tracing it down her body until he places both his agile hands at her waist.

And _man_ Tony loves the way she shivers under Tim's hands. Tony steps up behind her and pushes her pretty brown hair aside with one hand and pulls the loose shoulder of her shirt a bit closer to her elbow and kisses his way from her ear to her arm. Tim takes her lips, nipping and sucking in that dirty way Tony's seen him do. And then Tim breaks the kiss and meets Tony's eyes. He looks back to Dana and jerks his chin toward Tony. She turns her head, and it's Tony's turn to kiss her mouth. Tony just barely spies as Tim takes the opportunity to kiss down her chest to her cleavage, and now Tony has verification that Probie is definitely a breast man. Tony smiles against Dana's lips, and she smiles back. He leans a leg out, even knowing it's not going to be the right angle for her, but Probie picks up the slack and pulls his own leg up against her, lifting one of her thighs high around his and pressing her more tightly between the two of them.

"Oh!" she releases Tony's lips and her hot, high-pitched moan is pointed toward the ceiling. Tony takes the opportunity to nibble her neck again—loving the almost candied flavor that all women seem to have there—and Tim keeps moving his leg steadily against her short, flirty black skirt, right over her pussy, keeps lifting her thigh higher and higher each time until she has to be on her toes. And then she pulls both thighs up to wrap them around Tim's waist. Tony doesn't think Tim could have expected the weight so suddenly, and he moves his own hands to her ass to boost her up a little higher so she's supported by both Tim's legs and his.

Tim glances up when Tony shifts. Tony grins first and then they're smiling at each other. Once he knows Dana's weight is balanced between them, Tony slips one hand beneath her skirt to finger her there.

"Fuck, Tim, she took off her panties," Tony moans. "I love it when they do that!" he mumbles almost to himself.

Tim doesn't answer directly, but his hips jerk against Dana's which jerk back against Tony's.

"Fuck," Tony moans again, his fingers flying over Dana's clit with something like desperation.

"Oh! Oh!" she wails a little louder, a little higher, her hips jerking all over the place. Tony stills his fingers just as Tim stops the rocking motion against her.

"Oh!" she moans, just a little deeper now, and shudders as she slides down Tim's leg. She kisses Tim first, hard and quick, then reaches for Tony and does the same. She turns around, takes their arms, and leads them both to the door.

Tim briefly looks around as they leave, just seeming to realize they've been the main attraction on the floor for the last five minutes. Tony smiles when a saucy grin takes hold of Tim's face rather than the blush Tony'd been half-expecting.

The three of them crowd into the back of a small taxi, and Dana leans her head towards Tony and kicks off her shoes to tease her legs across Tim's lap. Tony obligingly tickles her neck with his mouth, kissing the same hot spots he found in the club, while he teases her breasts with both hands. Tony watches as Tim starts with her feet, slowly making her ache until _Tony_ can feel it, until Tim teases her up to her thighs but won't reach between her legs no matter how shamelessly she spreads her knees apart.

They finally make it back to Tony's place, making out in the elevator in an awkward and oh-so-good game of cat and mouse or catch or maybe uno for all Tony can remember at this point. Dana locks lips with him, moves to Tim and back to Tony until they make it to the right floor.

Tony struggles with the key in his pocket, feeling Dana grab his thigh even as she's twisted this way and that by Probie's kisses. He finally gets the door open, leading Dana, who's still attached to Tim at the mouth, inside.

Tim relinquishes custody of Dana's mouth long enough to shut and lock the door, even securing the deadbolt before he turns back to the two of them. Dana's already gotten Tony's shirt off at this point and is tugging open his belt buckle with both hands, so Tony reaches for Tim and pulls him back to them. Tim grabs Tony's hand back for just a second before going to work on Dana's shirt and the strapless bra beneath it. He yanks her skirt all the way down to her feet and kisses her thighs and her ass with such intensity that Tony's going to have to revise the breast man thing—but later.

_God, and Probie's still got his jacket on_, Tony realizes once Tim stands back up. Tony reaches past Dana and curls his fingers beneath Probie's jacket, slowly sliding it from his shoulders. Tim lets the coat slip down, and then his eyes meet Tony's and there's so much heat and intensity it makes Tony shiver in surprise.

"Take your shirt off, Probie," Tony's almost breathless by the time he demands.

Tim obeys immediately, and _man_ even _that's_ fucking hot. But Tony's got no time to consider it further because Dana pulls his dick out of his pants—and this, people—is why he never wears underwear.

"Oh, yeah," he arches into her hand, her strokes smooth and sure and practiced. _Guess I'm up first_, Tony muses.

The three of them make it to the bedroom, and Tony loses her sweet hands when she turns to strip Probie from his pants and shorts. Tony kicks off his own pants while they're distracted.

The three of them tumble on the bed together. Tony waits for Tim to get up and watch or not watch, though he thinks Tim will watch—Tony knows he's going to watch either way, and maybe that's not the best thing to do with a co-worker, but on the other hand, Tony lives by the policy that live porn should never, ever, ever be turned down. But Probie doesn't budge from the bed, and when Tony turns to him and says his name, Tim grabs his neck, and pulls Tony down into a kiss. For a moment, Tony's too stunned to even move, but then he feels Tim's enthusiasm waning in the movements of his lips on Tony's mouth, imagines Tim's embarrassment at the misunderstanding, imagines forced conversations and stilted lunches, and Tony hates it all. He can't even stand the thought, and so before Tim can move away, Tony grabs Tim's head in both hands and opens his mouth to kiss him back.

Tony closes his eyes, refusing to acknowledge the sudden knot in his stomach. Instead, he is determined to just let whatever's going to happen, happen. And it feels good being the object of all that concentration that he's seen for so many years but never experienced himself, at least not like this. It feels good to have Tim's tongue in his mouth, their lips and teeth clashing against each other, so good that it barely feels weird at all.

Tim breaks the kiss first. He looks down at Tony's lips with an almost puzzled look, and Tony wants so hard to declare, _You started it!_ Without another word, they both turn their attention to Dana. Dana with her mouth open and glossy-looking from their kisses. Dana with her hands beneath her breasts as if offering them to Tim and Tony. Tony glances back at Tim and grins, watches Tim's answering smile slide across his face before they each lean forward and suck a nipple into their mouths.

They only play with her another couple minutes before Tony reaches for the pile of condoms on his bedside table, tears open a packet and rolls the condom onto his dick. He angles Dana's hips up and slides his thighs beneath her. Tim keeps playing with her tits as Tony slips inside her.

The two of them moan together and then Probie moans, too. Tony glances down to see Dana's slid her hand down Tim's thigh to handle his cock with those sweet, experienced hands. Fuck, and it looks like Probie's having a good time, too. His dick's leaking precum all over her hand. Tony fucks her harder, gets another moan out of her, and a frustrated groan from Tim, and when Tony looks down, he sees what he expects to—Dana's hand is limp against Tim's very hard dick. Tony doesn't want Dana to stop jerking Tim off, but he _really_ needs her to come because he really, _really_ needs to come. He keeps fucking her at that angle and that speed until he feels and sees her moan and groan and thrash and—wow—she's a really good comer—and Tony lets himself come, too. He moves out of her, sure to keep the condom secure as he pulls away.

Immediately after he throws away the used condom, he tears open another wrapper and hands it Tim. Tim's hands are practically shaking he's so horny, but he asks Dana if she needs another minute in a way that both makes Tony want to kiss him, well maybe, as well as smack him upside the head.

Dana just smirks and wiggles her ass a little against the bed, which is as much invitation as any man really needs, and apparently Tim really is just like any man because he takes her tease and runs with it. He moves directly above her and pushes inside her. Their bodies touch from chest to waist, so there's really nowhere for Tony to move in and keep playing with Dana. Instead he reaches for Tim's back. His partner breathes sharply the moment Tony touches him. Tony kisses Dana's cheek, then Tim's. Tim's the one who turns first, so that's why Tony takes his mouth first. Tony runs his hand through Tim's hair and holds Tim to him, keeping his mouth with Tim's mouth even as Tim keeps fucking Dana.

"Oh!" They hear Dana's high pitched little gasp and they turn as one to see her eyes glazed over, her gaze torn between their mouths. Tony turns back to Tim just in time to see the smirk spread across Tim's lips. Then Tim turns back to Tony.

"Come 'ere," Tim says, which is apparently an invitation for the dirtiest fucking kissing Tony's had all night. Tim's tongue is everywhere, his lips seem to pout even as they kiss Tony's mouth and his teeth show up everywhere, at first just a tease until Tim knows whether Tony likes it, which—hello, yes! Tony bites Tim back, just a little, just enough to hurt, and then it's an all out biting war with Molly Pitchers of lips and sweet tongues meeting each other between battles.

And Dana comes again when Tony's not really paying attention, though Tim is—seriously a _lot_. And then Tim gasps against his mouth, but Tony doesn't let him go, makes Tim stay with him as he rides out his orgasm inside Dana.

When the condom's disposed of and Dana's quickly passing out against the newly dirtied sheets, Tim looks at Tony and grins. "Fuck, Tony," Tim declares, and Tony smiles and feels that little surge of pride he always does when he manages to make Tim cuss, but it's more this time. It was the _making_ part of making Tim cuss that Tony liked so much.

They break eye contact and both let a hand fall to Dana's soft stomach. Just before he falls asleep, Tony feels Tim rest his fingers against his own, and he smiles.

* * *

><p>The three of them have sex again in the wee hours of Sunday morning. Tony's lips against Tim's are warm and sure, and they keep Tim steady in the dim, artificial light peering around the curtains of the new day. They take a quick nap together, and then Tim and Dana share a taxi home. He kisses her and teases her in the back of the sedan, letting himself be kissed and teased, and though she smiles and licks her lips when the cabbie stops over at his place, he doesn't have any desire to invite her up to start again without Tony.<p>

He jogs up to his second storey apartment, feeling both loose and powerful with energy to spare despite the short night. He unlatches his front door and swings it open. The silence within is not quite as oppressive as it was when he left last night, but it still weighs heavily on Tim as he locks back up and walks to the shower, stripping down as he goes.

The hot water is fantastic against his new bruises and sticky skin. Still, he wishes they could have done this together at Tony's, the three of them, though, of course, they never would have been comfortable squeezing into his partner's small shower.

Once he turns off the water, the quiet and slowing drip is the only sound in his home. Tim closes his eyes, hands still on the knobs. Then he shifts and yanks open the curtain in one movement. He grabs for his towel and dries himself by rote. He walks into his bedroom and throws his towel on the floor. He lies down on the bed, still wet, though no longer dripping at least.

He lays there for long minutes, who knows how many, just thinking and wondering. Tony has always teased Tim about his apartment—how crunched his space is, how woman-unfriendly it is, how geek-appropriate. It's never really bothered Tim before because although he knows Tony means what he says on this account, Tim also knows that Tony never spoke maliciously and that Tim's place had still felt right to Tim at the time, regardless.

Tim sits up, feet flat on the floor. It doesn't feel right anymore. Even with Jethro gone to live with Tim's parents' friends in rural Virginia, it's just too small for what Tim needs, for who Tim _is_. Spurred into action, Tim grabs a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and powers up his computer in the cramped light of dawn. Tim has lived in this little box for years. He's ready for more.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Tim bounces into MCRT right on time Monday morning. Gibbs glares at him for arriving later than everyone else, but Tim just smiles under the onslaught and hands Gibbs the black coffee he'd stopped to get for him along the way. Gibbs sniffs his beverage, then lifts his eyebrow in grudging approval.

Ziva offers him a sweet and surprised, 'Thank you,' when he gives her the cinnamon chai he got for her, it had actually been her turn for the coffee run after all, though she usually goes mid morning.

And then when Tim sets Tony's cappuccino on his desk, the senior agent wraps a hand around the cup before Tim can let go. His fingers brush against Tim's as he grabs for the drink, causing McGee to bring his eyes from the cup to Tony's face. Brows lifted high, the senior agent keeps his eyes on Tim as he says, "Thanks, Probie," his voice low but not quite a whisper. As Tim walks to his desk, Tony says a little louder, "Should we be worried about your show of generosity, McMoneybags?"

"Just had a good weekend, Tony," he shoots back, not having to turn around to know there's a smile on Tony's face. He glances up anyway and sees Gibbs shooting Tony an approving look. Internally, Tim breathes a sigh of relief, he doesn't know what Tony did to piss off Gibbs last week, but Gibbs had been a bear ever since last Wednesday or so, not that most people could tell the difference.

The morning passes by through a sweetly scented haze of routine as shared by people who know each other very well. Ziva offers to go on the lunch run, and the four of them eat together in their shared cubicle, moving around to each others' desks to share the flavors of their various entrees, and even Gibbs barely works through the meal as they tease and talk with each other.

As Tony steals the last little bit of chicken fried rice, Tim very heartily wants to relate his latest plans with the team. "So, I've decided to move," he lets them know.

"What? Where?" Tony demands with an odd sort of near-frantic tone while a little bit of fried rice that hasn't quite made it to Tony's mouth falls back into the takeout container where he's loosened his grip on his chopsticks.

"I'm," Tim squints at Tony and shakes his head. "I'm not really sure yet." He divides his attention between Tony and his other two teammates. "I found this place in Somerset I really liked, but I don't want to have to travel that far for work every day anymore. On the other hand, Marion Park's a sweet commute, but most of the rowhouses have strict requirements on upkeep, which I don't really have time to do."

Gibbs shrugs at that comment, and Tim knows better than to keep with that line of conversation considering Gibbs' own pristine lawn. "Anyway," Tim redirects, "I'm thinking I'll get a condo or a townhouse. Something with three bedrooms so I can have a guest room and an office and not have to shift everything around every time my sister comes over."

"Tired of playing 'hide the porn'?" Tony grins, the chopsticks in his hand seemingly all but forgotten.

McGee rolls his eyes. "As if, Tony," Tim shakes his head and raises his eyebrow, feeling the smirk stretch across his face. "Everything digital I have is password protected."

Tony stills a second while he seems to process McGee's round-about admission. "Ha-hoo!" Tony exhales heavily on his laugh and claps his appreciation at Tim's new boldness. "Nicely done!" Tony tosses his takeout onto his desk and walks over to Tim's chair. "Probie," he sets his hand on Tim's shoulder. "Now," he nods proudly. "You are a guy. I'll call the embassy tonight and see about setting up your welcoming package." He swipes at a faux tear. "I never thought I'd see the day."

Tim shrugs off Tony's hand, laughing the whole time, and then Ziva's low chuckle across the aisle demands Tim's notice. He ducks his head and licks his lips, but then he looks right at her, smirk intact.

"You do not always have to be a gentleman, McGee," she grins right back at him. "In fact," she eyes him up and down, giving particular attention from his buckle to his toes, "I must confess, sometimes it is more interesting when you are not."

Tim catches Ziva's eye when she pulls her gaze back up to his. He can feel the heat in his face, and it's a different sort of heat than the blushes he's long dreaded and become accustomed to. He lets his eyes drift down her body in a way he's never really dared to before, certainly not intentionally and never when she's had her own sights right on him. She seems amused and maybe—dare he say it?—even a little flushed herself when their eyes meet again.

"Hey, hey, McRomeo." Tony waves a hand between them but neither Tim nor Ziva break their gaze. "Come on that's enough living on the edge for one day. There's such a thing as baby steps, you know."

"What's good for the goose, Tony," Tim tells his partner but directs a wink towards Ziva. She winks back, and they break eye contact with a shared grin.

"Alright, alright. Back to work," Gibbs waves them off and throws the remains of his lunch in the nearby trash, but even Tim can see amusement warring with professionalism on Boss' features.

"Gives new meaning to the term _hard_ drive, doesn't it?" Tony points out gleefully, and Tim can't help the laugh that bubbles out from deep inside his chest at the innuendo.

"Knock it off, DiNozzo," Gibbs orders, but there's no bite to it.

"Knocking it off, Boss." Tony ducks his head and pushes his chair back behind his desk. He smiles hugely at Tim while his back is still to Gibbs and Ziva.

Tim settles into his chair, grin still spread wide across his face, and then suddenly he's hit with the overwhelming sensation of being truly comfortable in his skin. He laces his fingers behind his head and leans back, feet stretched out in front of him, as he lets the feeling wash over him.

* * *

><p>Tony's hyper the rest of the day, the euphoria even outlasting rush hour traffic on the way home. But who could blame him for feeling mad with power at having coaxed Tim out of his shell, even just a bit? Not that anybody else really knows Tony's responsible, or okay, maybe only partly responsible, Tony concedes to himself, but he's been trying for years—<em>years<em>—to draw Probie out.

Tony bounces up the last couple of stairs and jogs to his front door, flipping the key up and unlocking the latch in two swift motions. He walks into his place, Tim still at the forefront of his mind.

Tony grins anew at the thought of Tim's unrestrained laughter. Today was such a great day, and it's not because Tim's full bellied laughter was something Tim had never shared with the team before. It's more like Tim's always got this little bit of himself that he holds back. And it's more than just Tim's ingrained sense of politeness and propriety. It's like he doesn't want to impose on anyone with his business, and so he just keeps it all to himself. For crying out loud, sometimes Tim's so reserved in his personal life that Tony—_Tony_—doesn't find out about what happened for months afterwards. It's always driven Tony crazy, but Tim's always kept a piece of himself secreted away from everyone else.

Except today he didn't.

Again the image comes to him, Tim relaxed and loose sitting back in his chair, _and all it took to make it happen was having a threesome together_, Tony considers as he hangs up his jacket in his bedroom closet and stows his gun.

If Tony had realized at the time how hugely Tim had misunderstood him at the club, then Tony would have corrected him immediately and they may or may not have shared a bed with Dana—beautiful, sexy, talented, Dana—as Tony'd originally intended. He'd surprised himself that night with how much he'd been willing to touch Tim and kiss Tim—not that he and Probie had really had _real_ sex _together_—but Tony doesn't think it could have worked out with any other guy. It hadn't even felt that awkward. And even if it had ended up being really weird, it still would have been _so_ worth it to see Tim so laid back today.

But was it just getting so thoroughly laid—and seriously, he and Tim have _got _to go back to that bar sometime to see if they can meet up with Dana again—that led to Tim being so much more himself than he usually is or was it the fact that Tony was there doing it with him that made the difference? Tony shrugs and settles down onto his sofa. It's not like it was a bad experience. It wouldn't be so bad helping Probie out again, he decides.

That thought in mind, Tony resolves to get Tim to come out with him again this weekend.

As the week goes on, Tony fears the days will go by slowly because of how much he's anticipating Saturday night, but he and Tim manage to have dinner together twice, first on Tuesday night when Tony demands Tim come with him to another club that Saturday to which Tim gratifyingly smiles and doesn't even _pretend_ he doesn't want to go. And then they go out again on Wednesday, inviting Ziva along this time and lingering in the city to check out a new jazz club Tim's been dying to see. And to top it all off, Gibbs smiled approvingly at Tony Thursday morning—that's _twice_ in a week for anyone who's counting—after learning the three of them spent the better part of the evening before hanging out and relaxing together. In fact, the only moments that go by slowly during the week are the ones Tony spends with Abby.

And it's not that Tony doesn't adore Abby because he totally does. It's just that every time he talks to her now, he thinks of that dejected look on Tim's face that first Saturday night in the parking lot of _Fur_, and it completely sucks to remember.

The worst part is, Abby's definitely noticed by now that both he and Tim aren't spending much time with her in the basement anymore. Tony's pretty sure he's been able to prevent her from figuring out, even remotely, that there's a real problem between her and them, but he doesn't think he can keep it up for much longer. Tony decides to head off the problem before it can really set in, and on Thursday afternoon, he invites Abby to come to a movie with him that night.

Abby perks up immediately at the invite, which only serves to make Tony feel that much more guilty. "Ooh!" she claps her hands together and hugs him. "What are we going to go see?"

Tony tilts his head and knows immediately that he can't just roll over and let her pick because then she'll definitely know that not all is right in Tonyland, or well, maybe more accurately in the space between Tonyland and Abbyland.

"No romantic comedies," he commands with a shudder, and Abby shudders right back then straightens her back indignantly.

"Of course not!" she lifts her chin. "Who do you think I am? McGee?" she teases, but it's exactly the wrong thing to say.

Tony feels the smile fade from his face but forces it back on as quickly as possible. Still, this time, Abby notices.

"What is it, Tony? What's going on?" she asks plaintively. "And don't tell me it's nothing because Timmy's been avoiding me all week, and you've been acting weird, too, and now I know you know something about it, and I'm not budging from here until you tell me," she declares, stamping a single foot in demonstration of her immovability.

Tony winces and looks for an out. But in reality, he's had a plan for this for days. He just really doesn't want to implement it. "Okay," he sighs, doing his best to appear he's conceding. "If, _theoretically_, I knew something about why McGee was pouting," he's careful to use the word to downplay the seriousness of the situation. "Then, _theoretically_," he adds again for effect, "I probably wouldn't be able to _tell_ you because he probably would have told me not to say anything."

"Ooh! Ooh!" Abby latches on immediately to his emphasis on the word 'tell,' just like he knew she would. "But if I were to guess, and you were to nod or shake your head then you wouldn't be telling me anything!" she finishes with a smile.

Tony automatically smiles back as if they're already sharing a secret. "Exactly," he says.

"Okay," Abby purses her lips and wrinkles her brow. "So Timmy's been acting weird ever since he broke up with his latest girlfriend," Abby immediately gets to the heart of the matter, and, not for the first time, Tony's amazed at how well she knows Tim. It makes him wonder, now, as he looks at her, why she's never chosen to be with him.

Tony belatedly nods at Abby's observation, just remembering that he's supposed to.

Abby nods back in satisfaction. "Okay, so that narrows the problem down to just a few possibilities," she purses her lips and turns to face Tony. "Timmy's upset that his latest girlfriend didn't work out, and he's avoiding me because he doesn't want me to know _how_ upset he is and make him feel worse about the situation by offering him too much sympathy."

Tony squints and slowly shakes his head.

"Alright," Abby nods and paces a little. Towards Tony, away from Tony. Towards Tony, away from Tony. "Ooh!" Abby halts on a dime. "Timmy stopped seeing his girlfriend but is still having sex with her and is too embarrassed to tell me."

Involuntarily, Tony's neck juts forward in disbelief at her suggestion. He shakes his head emphatically this time.

"Uh," she wrings her hands. "Right," she shakes her own head as if unsure why she would have considered the idea.

"Did he—"Abby pauses, and Tony tilts his head a little, wondering if she'll get it this time. "He doesn't—" she winces, and Tony's sure now she's on the right track now, or rather, the track he's leading her down. "He didn't break up with her because he wanted to try a relationship with me again, did he?" she speaks more quietly this time, wince still plastered all over her face.

Tony sighs, and glances down quickly and then back up to her eyes. He puts on his best sympathetic eyes, the ones that, women especially, tend not to question. "He's never gotten over you, Abs," and this time it's the heartbreaking truth. "He wants to do something about it." Again, the truth. He's careful not to out and out _lie_ to Abby. There are some things that even the best karma can't fix.

She exhales heavily and starts wringing her hands again. "You don't think he's really going to try again, do you?" she begs the question and then turns before Tony could possibly answer her. "I mean, I love Timmy, I just don't think I can—the things he wants—Uhh!" she cuts herself off again and steps right up to him. "I can't say 'yes' to him, Tony," she pleads with him. "But I hate to disappoint him. He has those sweet puppy dog eyes," she demonstrates with her own sad eyes before she starts pacing again. "And he gets upset and barely talks to me for _months_ afterward. _Months_, Tony!" she emphasizes again.

"Wait!" she stops herself and faces Tony again. "Is that why he's not coming down here as much? Maybe he knows I'll say 'no,' and he's trying to keep himself from asking. Is that it, Tony?"

He just levels his stare at her.

She sighs in relief this time. "Okay, we can deal with this." She continues walking back and forth, and though she's not really doing anything new, the pacing _looks_ more productive this time. "Tony," she grabs the collar of his shirt when she walks by him again. He has to move with her for three feet before she realizes he wasn't moving the second before and immediately stops them where they stand. "I need your help," she cajoles, eyes wide and sincere. "I need you to keep Timmy away and talk him out of doing anything. I mean, don't tell him I told you," she glances down and shuffles her head back and forth, "_or_ that you let me guess what _he_ told _you_, but please help talk him out of this. I just," she pats his collar. "I don't want this to ruin us."

Tony places his hand on hers where it rests on his chest. "Hey," he lifts her chin with his fingers. "Don't worry." He tells her honestly, "I understand, and I'll do what I can to keep him preoccupied."

She smiles at him, and the sincerity in her eyes forces him to remind himself that it's not even really a lie that he told Abby, but that, instead, it's something that'll help both Tim _and_ Abby in the long run. After all, Tim doesn't want to love Abby, and Abby doesn't want Tim to love her, and this will help them stay away from each other for a little bit while still preserving their friendship. Besides, neither one of them will probably even find out how he intervened, he reasons. But as Abby looks up at him with those trusting eyes, Tony doesn't think he's ever felt so much like a troll in all his life.


	6. Chapter 6 NSFW

***NOTE: This chapter NSFW.**

**Chapter 6**

Tony leads him to a different club again this week. About as crowded as last week's destination, it's nonetheless louder. Moreover, something in the way the lights flicker so wildly above them makes pushing through the crowd feel like walking underwater, even before they buy a single drink.

They each order a couple shots once they reach the bar, but this time, Tony stays with him even after they throw them back. Tony glances repeatedly between Tim's rum and coke—Tim's new drink of choice—and the beautiful women circling around. Tim watches as Tony locks gazes with several of them, and, considering there's really no way to talk under the current onslaught of music, Tim knows Tony has to be aching to get out on the dance floor with them to have a more direct sort of conversation.

Tim leans over to Tony's ear. "Don't wait for me," he has to yell, even this closely.

Tony angles away when Tim's done talking. Despite his own insistence, Tim's still disappointed to see Tony look him over and then nod his agreement. But then Tony grabs the cup out of Tim's hand and guzzles about half of it before tossing the rest into the nearest trash bin.

Then Tony smiles and leans back into Tim's space. "Okay, I won't wait," he hollers back at Tim, then yanks him toward the dance floor by the arm.

"Tony!" Tim exclaims, though he knows the other man can't hear him, can't even see him what with the way he's dragging Tim forward, but Tim's reticence doesn't last—he's already smiling long before Tony leads them to a group of women dancing together near the DJ booth. The music's even louder here and a part of Tim wishes he'd brought earplugs with him. Another part of him stutters at the newly uncovered sight of two very beautiful, very built women locked onto each other at the hips and the mouth and everywhere in between.

Tony pulls Tim into him with an arm around his shoulder so he can talk right into his ear. "Now that, Probie," he points to the obvious spectacle. "Is a thing of true beauty."

Tim tilts his head to the side and lifts his brow. Who is he to disagree? He watches the two ladies as their touches become more aggressive, watches as many different men try dancing up behind them, watches as every man is summarily dismissed, sometimes just by being ignored, sometimes by a look or gesture. Many persevere regardless.

Tim winces and pulls Tony back that couple inches he'd pulled away from Tim. "You don't want to try to get in between _that_, do you?"

Tony shakes his head quickly, moves his mouth towards Tim's ear, and Tim leans into him as soon as it's apparent Tony's trying to speak to him again.

"Nah, too much work," his partner says. "Besides, we're only looking for one woman." Tony shifts to pull away as he finishes speaking but stiffens instead. "Not that we _have_ to find only one w—"

Tim barely hears the words before he shakes his head emphatically, some of the built up tension leaving his body. "No, no, that's good," Tim hurriedly directs back toward Tony before the older man can finish.

Tony shifts again so they're face to face. A look of nervousness Tim hadn't even seen appear is smoothing out across Tony's features, and Tim smiles at him, somehow glad to know that Tony'd prefer to share this with him again tonight rather than to go it alone.

Tony shakes Tim's shoulders and says something that looks like, 'loosen up,' but his mouth is too far away now to know for certain. Tim rolls his shoulders, embarrassed to realize that he and Tony, along with a bunch of other guys, have just been standing in the middle of the dance floor gaping at these two women who seem more interested in each other than in any man that comes their way.

This time it's Tim that grabs Tony's arm to pull him to a different part of the dance floor. They come upon another group of women, dancing closer to a smaller bar toward the back of the club. The blond in the red dress is the one that smiles at him first. Of course Tim smiles back. She turns her back to him but then glances at him over her shoulder, and Tim takes her up on the invitation.

Tony follows up close behind Tim, and they both reach their new dance partner at the same time. The blond in the red dress moves against Tim until she tilts her head and sees Tony moving in behind her. Tim just barely sees the grin come across her face as she turns completely and focuses on Tony. Tim just shrugs when Tony looks up at him, but then Tim keeps dancing. He looks around a bit, but before he can find another partner, Tony's somehow extracted himself from the blond and moved them both towards a brunette a few feet away. Her black, sleeveless blouse makes her hair seem fluffier where it's shining, brown then blond then red beneath the constant lighting behind the bar.

Her face lights up as he and Tony surround her, her hair bouncing around both him and Tony as they find a groove together.

They move against each other for four more songs before she smiles and kisses both their cheeks, moving away with her friends.

Tim watches her go with regret. He'd liked the way her hair flowed around her head like a storm. He would've liked to have seen her locks splayed across Tony's pillow in the morning. He sighs as her head disappears into the crowd.

Before his eyes can make their way back to Tony, his gaze falls on the blond with the red dress, now steadily in pursuit of them. Tim tilts his head as he watches her approach. She sidles up right next to them and reaches an arm up Tim's neck, settling her fingers at the base of his skull. Satisfied she has his attention, she brings up her other hand to Tony's chest, pushing open a space between them. Facing Tony, she drives her fingers backward and up into Tim's hair, and how do women always know how much he loves that? He breathes harder with the touch, barely able to keep himself from slipping his eyes closed at the sensation.

She settles her other hand inside the open collar of Tony's shirt. Tony watches her intently for a moment. She grinds back against Tim, and he grabs her hips by reflex, pulling her against him. Tony's eyes skitter downward, seeming to catch the motion, and then he smiles at the blond. Tony lays his hands on her sides, close enough to Tim's grip that their fingers touch.

The blond turns her face to the side and pulls Tim's head down next to hers, opening her mouth for a kiss. He walks his fingers up her side, feeling Tony along the route toward her stomach. He lifts his thumb as they kiss, just barely grazing the side of her breast with each stroke. She gasps against his mouth and grips the back of his head even harder, tugging almost painfully at his hair. This time he's the one that gasps. He adjusts his hands so one moves up to hold her head in place while the one that had been at her hip slips up to cup her opposite breast. Tony's hand slides with his and they touch her there together.

Twenty minutes later, they're in a taxi headed towards a nearby hotel. Her name is Julie they learn between kisses and gropes. Tony takes charge of registering for the room, placing a hand over Tim's when the younger man tries to move for his credit card.

"You can catch it next time," Tony speaks close to his ear like they're still at the club.

And then the words really register—_next time_—and they echo in his head. He ducks his chin before he can help it, the flush coming over his features too quickly to stop. The fire from the thought flows through him as they move away from the main desk together. Touching between the three of them, which had become more subdued in the very public area of the hotel lobby, abruptly increases in both frequency and intimacy the moment they step into the empty elevator.

Julie backs Tim into one of the corners before the doors even close. She's kissing his throat by the time Tony comes up behind her to trace his hands up the backs of her thighs. The heated ride to the sixth floor doesn't last very long, though, and the three of them almost trip over each other twice as they try to maneuver the hall together towards their door.

Tony barely seems to be able to concentrate long enough to swipe the key, though Tim can hardly blame him when Julie's got a hand down each of their pants. They practically tumble inside where Julie excuses herself to go into the bathroom, leaving Tim and Tony alone and breathing hard together beside the king-sized bed.

They watch the closed door for a moment together, but it's apparent she'll be a minute doing whatever it is a woman has to do right after she's gotten you hard enough to burst but right before she's ready to have sex.

They both exhale heavily, still watching the bathroom door, then turn to each other and grin at the reciprocity of the sound.

Eyes still on each other, Tony brings his hand up to Tim's leather jacket and lifts the collar in a tease. "You gonna keep this on all night again?" Tony asks and doesn't take his hand off it.

"You're the one who helped me out of it last time," the words come unbidden as the memory slips to the front of his mind. And then Tim bites his tongue, remembering the intimacy of the moment, that soft connection he'd felt to Tony, and it seems wrong of Tim to talk about it.

"So I did," Tony responds quietly and raises both hands up to curl beneath his jacket and slip it off Tim's shoulders just like he had the week before. This time though, without Dana in between them, Tony's hands follow the motion of the jacket down Tim's arms.

Tim licks his lips without meaning to, eyes still on Tony's. "Thanks," he whispers.

A nod is all the response Tony offers.

The bathroom door clicks open, and Julie steps out, naked except for her panties. Tim blinks and wets his lips, throat suddenly feeling dry.

"God, I love it when they do that, too!" Tony exclaims and holds out a hand for Julie.

The three of them get naked together fast and then tumble down onto the bed. This time, when they're rolling around on the sheets together touching, Tony is the one that kisses Tim first. The two of them graze each others' arms and backs and necks with their fingers as they take turns kissing and teasing Julie. Once, when Tim's inside Julie, Tony traces the line of Tim's back all the way to the swell of his ass before skittering back up to rest on his neck. It's that single contact that calms something deep inside Tim, makes the moment seem exactly right. He keeps that calm with him through the night and into the morning.

They wake up when Julie leaves, each kiss her one more time as she goes, and then they go back to bed, lie down together. Tim scoots Tony's way, trying to get out of the wet spot he's been lying on all night. His hand just barely brushes Tony's arm as they fall asleep again.

* * *

><p>Tony's relieved when Tim doesn't leave with Julie in the morning. He kind of wants to squeeze Tim's hand when he realizes Tim's hunkering down to stay for the rest of the night—er, well, morning, Tony supposes—but he can't figure out a way of touching him now that Julie's no longer between that wouldn't end up being incredibly awkward and just, eh, no.<p>

They barely make it out of the hotel by the eleven o'clock checkout time. They manage—only just—to shower within the time constraints, though they do have to put on their clothes from the night before. As they walk out of the hotel lobby, Tony decides Tim's going to take him out to brunch. He lets Tim know as succinctly as possible: "Feed me," he orders.

Tim chuckles. "Okay," he nods his agreement. "How about the courtyard restaurant near the convention center?" he posits. "They have a great Sunday brunch with a live band."

Tony eyes him suspiciously, "You'll go anywhere that has a jazz musician, won't you?"

Tim grins hugely, "Sometimes it's reggae, actually."

"Hmm," Tony squints at the obvious lie but then lifts his chin in acquiescence. "That is acceptable," he generously declares.

Probie forces them to—gasp!—take a bus from the nearest street corner to the convention center, saying it's a waste to take a cab when they're only really going a few blocks. Tony lets Tim lead him along the way but only because Tim lets him bitch the whole time.

There's only a few minutes' wait once they reach Porquoi Pas. "Heh," Tony laughs to himself at the thought of Probie frequenting a restaurant called Porquoi Pas.

Tim glances over to him where he stands, but just smiles sweetly at his chuckling, so Tony magnanimously decides not to mention the ridiculousness of the name until later.

When they ascend the stairs to the mezzanine, Tony hears, much to his surprise, decidedly reggae-ish melodies descending from above.

"Huh," he says—a statement unto itself—when the steel drums come into view.

"Told you," Tim lifts his brows in that smug way he gets. "What 'til you try the beignets," he leans across the aisle to whisper close to Tony's ear.

Tony bends, just a little, into Tim's words. Beignets really do sound delicious, he decides.

When the café au lait and the French doughnuts, in all their powdery sugar goodness, are on the table and the rest of their meal is being prepared, Tim starts talking about the townhouses he's been looking at all week.

As Tony listens to the places Tim's interested in, commenting here and there on what Tim really _needs_ in a house (like there's no such thing as too much closet space and hot tubs are _never_ overrated), he realizes that Tim's looking to buy rather than to rent a home.

The added permanence Tim's seeking in wanting to own a home makes a part of Tony that's been a little uptight all week, ever since Tim announced so dramatically (and so soon after that first Saturday night) that he was moving, relax a little bit in relief. Still, the abruptness and—ooh the timing—of Tim's decision makes Tony a bit nervous.

"Not to say that this change isn't incredibly overdue or anything, but why move now? You've lived in that apartment almost as long as I've known you, and sure, it's dank and dark and entirely too small for a grown man, but that's never bothered you before," Tony adds, more than a little bit condescending in his tone, but, in truth, achingly curious to know the answer.

Tim smiles at Tony's pretence, and Tony almost drops his gaze, eyes seeming too heavy with the sudden feeling that Tim might see right through him. Then Tim just shrugs. "It always seemed like a waste before, moving in order to add more square footage for just one person. I think I was waiting for someone to move _with_," Tim confides, and then Tim's the one that lowers his eyes. "I think part me thought if I waited long enough, I could get Abby to change her mind about me, and we could pick out a place together." And then Tim shrugs again, embarrassment set into his shoulders.

Tony appreciates the confession, but Tim's awkward pose is completely unwarranted, so he kicks Tim under the table to try to peel that look from his posture. His partner's embarrassment evaporates immediately, and then, to Tony's satisfaction, Tim boots him back, thereby starting an all out kicking war that lasts until the waiter brings out their entrées. They call a truce while they eat, except for the one time they trade kicks when Tony tries to steal the extra piece of sausage from Tim's plate. Probie still ends up giving it to him anyway after they each recall their feet to their respective corners, just like Tony knew he would. Tim likes the taste of sausage, but he only ever has one piece because it tends to give him indigestion.

"I like this place," Tony declares, pushing his plate away and leaning back in his chair.

Tim nods. "I'm glad. It's my favorite restaurant to go to on Sundays," he confides, not that it's much of a confession.

"We should come back here next week," Tony continues, and then Tim abruptly shifts his eyes toward Tony, not even moving his head a millimeter. Tony checks the motion, surprised at its terseness until he realizes the implications of what he just said. He opens his mouth to refute the idea that he expects anything to happen next week, but he finds himself speechless.

"That's a good idea," Tim finally says, his eyes hooded and focused like Tony's only ever seen them on Saturday nights.

Tony nods, holding that gaze for just a moment before he shifts his head and looks away. He spots the waiter then and tries to get his attention, hoping Probie will think that was his intention all along. The server hustles over, and Tony dares to glance back up at McGee as their check is set upon their table, but when he looks at his partner, the intensity in Tim's eyes is replaced by confusion. Tony exhales heavily, empathizing with the feeling.

They're virtually silent while Tim pays for the meal, but then the younger man suggests they check out a new arcade with some pretty old school games. Tony automatically mocks the very idea, tossing his napkin onto the table while he teases Tim about getting flabby if he spends all his time indoors. Tim immediately retaliates, saying he's not the one who's gained nearly ten pounds in the last year. Tony squints at the accusation, certain it's nowhere near ten pounds, but then Tim smirks, and it's like the moment resets, swiftly shifting back to normal as they walk out of the restaurant together and on to the arcade.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

For the second Monday in a row, Tim practically springs into MCRT, high on feeling from the weekend. He doesn't stop at Daily Joe this morning since he knows Tony'll be driving by way of Dunkin Donuts and Gibbs—well everyone really—likes their coffee better.

McGee offers Gibbs a cheery good morning, not really bothered by the morning glare he gets in return seeing as how it's just that time of day when Boss' first cup of coffee starts to fade. He stows his gun and starts up his computer, setting his lunch in his lower right drawer. He's still checking his email when Ziva scurries in off the elevator, mind obviously elsewhere as she secures her own weapon and starts her daily routine.

"Good morning, Ziva," McGee offers her an eager smile as he comes around to the other side of his desk to start up the plasma.

She glares up at McGee. "I do not understand why American drivers are so sensitive."

Tim tightens his grip on the remote and bites his lip in an attempt to get rid of the grin. "Another ticket?" he tries to ask the question with a sympathetic tone.

"My third in two months!" she confirms.

Tim clears his throat, a little surprised at the low number. Then again, he rethinks, maybe they just haven't been able to catch up to her.

"The policeman said if I had even one more citation, I would be referred to driving school! Me!" She shakes her head. "Unbelievable," she finishes.

Tim squints and tilts his head away from her, perhaps in a subconscious motion to keep it more removed from the line of fire. "Well, maybe you should consider attending driving school anyway."

"What?" she squints and shakes her head at him again, and out of the corner of his eye, Tim can see Gibbs lift his head in amusement, giving the argument more of his attention. "I do not _need_ to be taught how to drive," Ziva continues, maneuvering around her desk to walk right up to Tim. "I have been operating a vehicle since I was thirteen years old, and I do not _need_ some overgrown, stuffed pants instructor to tell me what I already know," she lifts her chin and steps right up to Tim's toes, fire in her eyes, hands clenching at her sides.

Tim clears his throat again and takes a step back, about to tell Ziva how it might add points back to her license if she takes the courses preemptively, but then, in her irritation, Ziva follows his movement immediately, pressing him right up against his desk. His skin starts itching instantaneously at being boxed in, but instead of giving in to his long-held aversion to conflict by trying to sidestep her or beg his release with kind words, he feels his back straighten up, and he widens his stance a little, then he moves forward, right into Ziva's space.

"First of all," he lifts a single finger in explanation. "It's stuffed _shirt_, not stuffed pants." He waves his hand, still sporting the plasma's remote, in the tiny space between them. "Totally different meaning. Second," he sighs, still not wanting to be rude, but come on!

"Second, Ziva, you're _scary_ when you drive, and not _cool_ scary like you are when you do those freaky Mossad moves that make us laugh at Tony when he tries to imitate them, but _oh my gosh I'm going to die_ scary." She lifts her chin even higher as he goes on. "I get that you learned to drive in a warzone and everything, but DC is not a warzone," he tilts his head, "though, granted, I will give you cherry blossom season when the crazy 'nature'," he uses air quotes, "tourists come out. You've never bothered to learn how to drive in an American city because there's a part of you that's never left Israel, and unfortunately, the driver in you is probably the biggest part," he finishes, still holding his ground.

Ziva blinks at him a moment, and then blinks away. "I see," she says stiffly and turns so abruptly her ponytail almost takes out his eye.

"Ziva." He lifts an arm a little in reflex toward her back, upset at having offended her. He almost even steps toward her as she smoothly slides back behind her desk. But then he drops his hand to his side. What he said was not untrue, nor was it particularly unkind.

_Sometimes you don't like the things you learn about yourself from other people, but that doesn't mean you didn't need to know them,_ Abby had said that to him right after she'd called it off between them. Now, standing here in the bullpen seven years later, watching Ziva very studiously ignore him, it's the first time Tim has ever recalled the memory when it didn't sting.

Tim licks his lips, finishes setting up the plasma, and walks back to his own desk. He gets back to his email. Abby's comment and what she meant that day competing in his mind for supremacy with Ziva's driving skills and her offense when Tim had taken exception to them. He shakes his head in an attempt to clear his mind, then brings his chin up to check that the plasma screen has completed its connection with the wifi. His gaze stops when he reaches Gibbs. Boss' eyes are centered right on him, squinting and almost curious.

Tim meets his gaze and returns the stare, trying to imagine why Gibbs would be so focused on him this morning.

"You need something, Boss?" he finally asks, squinting right back.

"Nope," Gibbs shakes his head once, and though he doesn't smile, Tim gets the strong sense that he kind of almost is anyway.

Tim shakes his head at the oddity, but then focuses back on his work. He feels Gibbs' eyes drop off him after another few moments and then the three of them work separately and in silence for another fifteen minutes before Tony steps off the elevator.

"Hey, hey, hey! Hot stuff coming through." Tony grins at them, setting a bag of pastries onto his desk and letting his pack slip down to the floor beside his chair before passing out the steaming coffees from the Dunkin Donuts paper tray. "Oh, and be careful because the coffee's pretty warm, too," he winks at Tim as he sets his latte down on his desk.

"Thanks." Tim grins right back up at him. Even though it's a joke Tony's told a dozen times before, it seems newly funny.

Having finished distributing his load, Tony looks around the cubicle at his abnormally closed-mouth coworkers, and checks his watch. "I'm not late, am I?" The minute hands confirm, "No, I'm not late. Ooh," he winces, "Beth from accounting didn't call, did she? Because that suit really was ruined while chasing a suspect. I just got the coffee stain on it the same day."

Tim chuffs, trying not to laugh. "Good morning, Tony."

"Good morning, McWhyNot," Tony grins hugely at him.

"McWhyNot?" Tim lifts his brow.

"Come on," Tony leads. "_Porquoi Pas_? Don't tell me you didn't take French in high school."

"I didn't take French in high school," he deadpans.

Tony squints, "Are you lying?"

Tim narrows his eyes right back at him for only a second until he breaks, "Yes, okay, I'm lying, but it's not like I remember any of it," he shrugs.

"Timmy, Timmy, Timmy," Tony shakes his head. "It's a good thing you have me to take you under my wing."

McGee feels the comeback bubble up in his throat, but the truth is, he's kind of had the same thought, however unformed, rolling around his head for the last couple weeks. "Of course it is, Tony," he says eventually, trying to infuse some irony into the statement so his voice doesn't come across as pathetically grateful as he feels.

Tony steps up to him, placing his own coffee on Tim's desk to grab Tim's shoulders. "Porquoi Pas means—"

"Why not," Tim cuts him off. "Yeah, I caught that."

Tony tilts his head and smiles, pinching McGee's cheek. "Why not, indeed?" Tony squeezes Tim's shoulders one last time before picking up his coffee and shuffling towards his own desk.

_Why not?_ Tim repeats silently to himself, and then he smiles.

* * *

><p>Tony's blood pressure still hasn't normalized five minutes after the team arrives at the crime scene. He doesn't know what he did this time to piss Gibbs off, but whatever it was, tossing Ziva the keys to the van with that gleeful—well, for Gibbs—smile was a completely disproportionate punishment.<p>

The only thing that made it bearable was the fact that Tim must have equally irritated him as he was specifically included when Gibbs told them to secure their seatbelts—tightly.

The rhythm of the team's routine slowly calms his heartbeat—Tim excitedly using his fingerprint toy, Ziva snapping pictures and flashing in everyone's way just to tease-slash-irritate them, Ducky droning on about pine cones and holly berries and the derivation of the Christmas song spotlighting them regardless of the fact that it's actually a beautiful mid-spring day, Palmer asking questions at just the right intervals to spur him to continue, and Gibbs contentedly glaring at, well, just about everyone.

By nature of the investigation, the commander sitting at his desk with a hole in his head is assumed to have died from homicide, though the gun in his hand, gripped tightly around the effects of rigor, would seem to beg otherwise. There's no note immediately apparent, which doesn't necessarily mean anything, but the empty dresser drawers upstairs—including half the drawers in the master bedroom and all the ones in the children's bedrooms—also speak loudly.

"It's a shame," the marine who first cordoned off the scene says as he's about to leave. "He was up for promotion."

Gibbs' head snaps up, the gears already turning. "Promotion?" he prods.

The corporal nods. "About to get his own ship. Ticonderoga class if you listen to the rumors," he clarifies.

Tony raises his brows and looks at Gibbs, "He's pretty young for it."

"Forty-one," Tim agrees.

"Hey, it looks like this crime scene just got a little more interesting," Palmer slowly grins. He shakes his head and frowns. "Not that somebody dying is ever interesting, well not that I'm not interested in the medical examiner's profession—"

"Mr. Palmer," Ducky interrupts, exasperated, "While I am certain you meant no disrespect to Commander Mitchell, perhaps we should get him back home before we decide how 'interesting' this case is."

"Right," Jimmy nods. "Of course, Dr. Mallard," he says and scrambles out toward the van with their equipment inside.

Ducky flashes his eyes toward the ceiling, then looks over to Gibbs. "I'm afraid Mr. Palmer may be right, Jethro. Although it is apparent the commander's hand was in close proximity to the gun as it was fired, this pattern on his skin as revealed by Anthony's field kit is somewhat suspicious, although we should be able to figure that out fairly quickly once Abigail runs a computer simulation of the incident."

Gibbs gives one quick shake of his head. "Alright, let's finish up then," he says and rises from his kneeling position. "DiNozzo," Gibbs bellows.

"Yes, Boss?" Tony jerks his head up immediately upon hearing his name.

"You ride with me," Gibbs orders.

Tony perks up. "Yes, Boss." One glance over toward McGee's face—quickly turning an unbecoming shade of green—tells him Ziva still has the van's keys.

Tony pats Tim's shoulder in commiseration then quickly scurries off after Gibbs and far, far, _far_ away from Ziva and the keys she's holding hostage.

They ride to the nearest Starbucks in relative silence—well, Tony rationalizes, talking about the weather is practically _speechless_ for Tony. They walk into the coffee shop—Gibbs is obviously still maintaining that weird thing he has about drive-thrus, a fact that has always privately reminded Tony of Joe Pesci in Lethal Weapon 2: _They fuck you in the drive-thru_.

"Heh," Tony chortles but cuts off the sound abruptly at Boss' glare

They order coffee for the team. Just to be on the safe side, Tony forgoes a brew for Tim and buys him a peppermint tea instead, adding a solid amount of sweetner. That should help with the nausea once Tim gets back to the Yard.

They're already back in the car before Gibbs offers more than a 'hmm' or a growl to the conversation. "McGee looked good this morning," he points out as he makes a nearly legal left turn.

Tony smiles to himself at Gibbs' observation. "He did, didn't he?" Tony turns to Gibbs whose attention seems to be wholly fixated on the mid-afternoon traffic. Tony knows better, though. He knows that Gibbs expects more details, and Tony is happy to provide them. He frowns, well some of the details anyway.

"We had a good time Saturday," Tony offers.

"You went out again?" Gibbs asks, but they both know he already knows the answer.

"Yeah," Tony nods. "Different club. Slightly younger crowd than last week but more adventurous," he waggles his eyebrows.

Gibbs levels his eyes at DiNozzo. Tony doesn't exactly flinch under the gaze, but he can't quite say he doesn't flinch either.

"Didn't think that was McGee's style," Gibbs points his gaze back outside, and something about the way Gibbs doesn't look at Tony gives the younger man a bad feeling.

"He's less vanilla than you'd think," Tony defends.

"Never thought it was a matter of vanilla," Gibbs winces like it's something he really doesn't want to think about. "McGee's always been the type trying to find something steady."

Tony swallows hard, thinking of Tim's words that first night in the parking lot, how Tim talked about wanting to fall in love and get married, how he said he wanted it to mean something when he went to bed with somebody. Was Tony somehow tarnishing that ideal, tarnishing Tim?

Tony juts out his chin. "He's having fun."

Gibbs shrugs, lifts the middle of his lower lip as if agreeing with the information.

"Really, he is," Tony insists. "You said so yourself how good he looked," he points out.

Gibbs just nods.

"I'm not pushing him into doing anything he doesn't want to do," he asserts, certain he's telling the truth. "I'm just there to support him." _And to have sex with the women he's having sex with while we're all in bed together_, Tony very pointedly does _not_ add.

Gibbs glares at the traffic light they're stopped at as if it's wronged them personally. "What's this whole thing got to do with Abby?" the older man finally questions.

"Boss—" Tony shakes his head.

"I haven't sent him downstairs in over a week. He hasn't gone down voluntarily, Abby hasn't come up, and neither one of them has said a word about it. As far as I know they haven't so much as talked to each other on the phone," Gibbs turns his glare towards Tony. "If they can't work together, then I need to know."

"They _are_ working together," Tony insists.

Gibbs shakes his head, focusing back on the road as the light turns to green. "They're avoiding each other," he corrects. "Why?"

Tony feels Gibbs glance his way but doesn't give in to the urge to look back at him. "It's Tim's business," he quietly lets on as Gibbs gets to him.

Gibbs hones in on the little bit of information he's given, "Not Abby's?"

Tony bites his lip, eyes peering out the window. He shakes his head, and hears Gibbs sigh behind him. Tony locks his jaw, irritated with himself at how much of Tim's secret he's given away. Gibbs must know now that it has something to do with Tim's feelings for Abby. What else could it be, after all?

Gibbs makes the last turn to enter into the Yard. "He seems happier, more relaxed than he's been in a long time. Whatever business he's taking care of, it seems like he's doing all right," he decrees. "He's going to keep needing your help," Gibbs offers, a little more stilted this time.

Tony nods. "He doesn't have to ask."

"Good," Gibbs declares. "Because he won't."


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

Death would have been kinder than Ziva's driving on the way back from the crime scene. With Tony vacating the van on the return trip to the Yard, she really lets loose _all_ over the road. Tim's surprised afterwards when he staggers to the rear and opens the back doors that the evidence doesn't fall out and litter the floor of the garage.

He collects the samples and shuffles towards Abby's lab by habit, not giving a thought to their recent lack of communication until he's stepped off the elevator onto her floor. McGee bites his lip, not knowing how he's going to explain himself to her for his avoidance and not wanting to backslide from all the progress he's made in trying to move on. He winces but keeps on walking right on into her lab.

"Hey, Abby," he nearly swallows his tongue to say.

"Oh hey, McGee," Abby looks up from what looks like a DNA sample on her screen. She smiles, but it's subdued, without her usual bounce. "Is that from the murder of the navy commander?" she asks pointing to his evidence.

"Yes?" He clears his throat, and sets the boxes on the nearest unused table. "I mean, we don't know yet if it's a murder. Ducky wants you to look at the pattern of the gunshot residue on the victim's hand and run a sim to see if it was self-inflicted."

"No problem," she says without much inflection.

Tim furrows his eyebrows at her, not sure if she's angry at him or not for avoiding her. "Is everything," he cringes, "okay?"

"Yes!" she jerks her head back up. "Fine, everything's fine. It's okay with you, too, isn't it?" and there's a special sort of pleading in her tone that McGee's always been a sucker for. Trouble is, he doesn't know what she's asking for, and he's trying _really_ hard not to care either way.

"Yeah," he nods. "I mean, if you're fine, I'm fine."

She shakes her head. "I'm fine!" she declares, wide-eyed.

Tim nods again. "Good. Okay," he turns toward the door and then back to the evidence. "I need you to sign," he could kick himself for almost forgetting.

She holds up a finger and gives that slight smile again. "Right," she scurries over and scribbles her signature.

"Okay," Tim backs away toward the exit once more. "I'm gonna go upstairs."

"Okay," she winces.

He winces back. "I'll see you later?"

"Yes!" she exclaims, suddenly excited at the prospect of either Tim leaving or of him coming back.

McGee smiles at her one last time and walks back towards the elevator. He opts for the stairs at the last second, needing to burn off his confusion. He's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed by her reaction to not seeing him for a couple weeks, but he's pretty sure it's both. As he tops the last flight, he notes with surprise that he's actually more relieved than anything.

He exhales heavily as he makes it to the landing of his floor. "Wow," he says to himself as he reaches for the handle. He can't help the smile that comes across his face as he pulls the door open.

Rounding the corner towards his cubicle, the first thing he sees is Tony standing at the edge of his desk, his face angled toward the elevator. DiNozzo's got a file open in one hand and the plasma's remote in the other, but his fingers twitching along the seam of the file folder tell McGee that Tony's not paying attention to either one. Tony lifts his head briefly upon spotting Tim, but then his eyes drift back down to the papers in his hand and remain there, unmoving, until Tim walks right in front of him.

"So how was our lovely mistress of the dark?" Tony lifts his gaze without raising his face.

Tim pauses and looks around the cubicle, but Gibbs's desk is empty—he's probably down with Ducky—and Ziva is pointedly ignoring him.

"Apparently, she was fine," Tim tilts his head and nods once.

Tony squints at him. "Fine?"

"Fine," Tim lifts his brows.

"Hmm," Tony hums.

Tim lifts his chin, crinkles his forehead. "Did you think she wouldn't be fine?"

"No," Tony tries to chuckle the word while he shakes his head towards the left and tucks it into his neck—any one of them alone is generally a sure sign he's lying, but all of them together…

"No?" Tim bites his bottom lip, suddenly feeling unsure.

"Well," DiNozzo shrugs. "Possibly. But I was wondering more about whether you were fine with her being fine."

"Yeah," Tim smiles. "I was."

Tony looks back and forth between Tim's eyes, and Tim keeps his gaze, lets him in to see whatever it is that he needs to. Tony tips his head towards Tim's desk.

"Stopped by Starbucks, Probie," he says.

A quick glance over at the cup and Tim cringes. "Not that I don't appreciate the thought or anything, but I'm just going to let my stomach settle for a little while," he finishes on a whisper, knowing Ziva can hear him across the way even still.

"Ah-ah!" Tony negates the idea and walks to Tim's desk. "Peppermint tea, no milk, and extra sugar," Tony concludes, picking up the cup and extending his hand towards McGee.

Tim raises his brows and accepts the cup. He sips it at Tony's prodding. When that goes down alright, he takes another. "Huh," Tim tilts his head.

"Small sips, Tim. It'll help," Tony pats Tim's stomach on the way back to his desk.

Tim ducks his head down and pulls the cup into himself, hiding his smile as he walks back to his desk.

* * *

><p>Although it's apparent before the workday concludes that Ziva's driving and Tony's subjection to it is somehow McGee's fault, Tony doesn't have the heart to give Tim more than a few dirty looks. He's even less inclined to scowl at him once Tim offers to buy him dinner that night. Their plans are waylaid on the road towards Panarino's Pizza Palace when Gibbs calls them back to check out a new lead from a random fingerprint in the Mitchells' foyer that gets a hit from AFIS.<p>

Because Abby's sim on the gunshot residue indicates another person's hand _may_ have been partially covering the commander's when the gun discharged, and since Ducky hesitates to declare the commander's death a homicide without a little further investigation of his own, MCRT ends up chasing the trail of a convicted burglar from Idaho (and, seriously, they have burglaries in Idaho?) for half the night.

While Tony calls the man's former PO, neighbors, and basically anybody awake and alive in the mountain time zone, Tim gets to work on DMV records and the man's financials. Ziva and Gibbs meet up with the man's local employer and try to get a solid address for him rather than just the post office box where he gathers his mail every few days.

It takes almost five hours to find Jason Morgan and only fifteen minutes to confirm his alibi—in Vermont—where he was visiting his kids over the weekend.

Hot lead wasted, Tony goes home tired and hungry and entirely without any good pizza places open.

He takes a quick moment to wash the day off of him. He's out of the shower just in time to hear his cell ring. Sighing, he runs for it anyway, just in case it's Gibbs. It's not.

"Hey," Tim's voice is soft over the line. "Sorry we didn't get to Panarino's."

Smile on his face, Tony bounces onto the couch in only his towel. "_You're_ sorry?" he teases. "I coulda had The Brooklyn Tornado—extra cheese and all the meats. Ahh," he sighs, then tucks his chin into his chest in faux disgust even though Tim can't see it. "Instead, I had a chocolate-orange power bar. Seriously," he shakes his head, "_chocolate-orange_?"

"Hey, you're welcome," Tim returns, and Tony can hear the smile returned in his partner's voice. "You want a raincheck for later this week?"

"Yes!" Tony lifts his feet onto the coffee table and leans back against the sofa. "In fact, I must insist. You haven't lived until you've had Panarino's garlic knots."

Tim chuckles and the sound teases Tony's lips back into curling. "Gonna teach me all about the high life, Tony?"

He tilts his head toward the phone and lowers his voice, "Well, somebody's gotta."

"Hmm," Probie hums, "I guess if somebody's gotta teach me, it may as well be you."

"Damn straight, kid. I've got the moves," he slicks his hair back with his free hand and follows through on the motion to cradle the back of his head.

The quiet that follows that statement seems both heavy and comfortable. Tony doesn't really have anything else to say, doesn't know if there's another reason why Tim called, but he's not ready to get off the phone just yet.

"Any more possibilities in those houses you're looking at?" Tony breaks the silence.

"Quite a few, actually," Tim exhales heavily over the line, but there's nothing tired about it. "It'll be hard to narrow down."

"You should get something with a yard," Tony prods.

"Eh," Tim says, and Tony can practically see his shrug through the phone. "Don't really want to have to mess with mowing the lawn, raking leaves, those sorts of things."

"Yeah, but you could have barbeques!" Tony encourages. "Picture it—we can have team parties and just soak up the sun on the weekends. It'll be great."

Tim chuffs.

"What?" Tony asks, smile growing across his face in anticipation of knowing whatever Tim finds humorous.

"No, it's just," Tim takes a little breath, and Tony pulls the phone closer. "Can you imagine Gibbs coming to a barbeque at my house?"

Tony crinkles his brow. "Well, yeah," _of course_, he doesn't add because it seems obvious.

"Um, I don't think so," and there's something defeated in Tim's tone that makes Tony want to rewind the conversation and start all over.

"He would, you know," Tony insists because he can't quite let that go. "If you asked Gibbs, he would, but he doesn't like to come where he's not invited."

"Tony!" Tim huffs like he can't believe Tony said that. "Gibbs barges in where people don't want him all the time!"

"Yeah, at work," Tony points out.

The quiet between them this time is more charged, less content.

Tony bites his lip. "He's never known how to relate to you."

"I don't want to talk about it, Tony," Tim nearly interrupts him to say.

"But it bothers you," and it's almost a question from Tony's lips, even though he already knows.

Tim sighs, and this time, it is a tired sound. "Yeah, it bothers me, but there's nothing I can do about it. It hasn't changed in seven years, and it's not about to now."

"Just because he has a hard time understanding where you're coming from doesn't mean he doesn't want to learn," Tony prods a little more.

"Tony, I don't want to talk about it," Tim declares evenly, and it's that final tone he only gets when he _really_ means it.

Tony sighs but then concedes, "Okay," without another word, knowing his best bet is to let it go for the moment. He's much better at convincing Tim in person after all. And just like that, the tension between them eases.

All of a sudden, Tony can think of a dozen things he wants to talk to Tim about—what the hell had Tim done to piss Ziva off? Did he think the commander's death was really a suicide? Had he seen the preview for that new alien movie coming out next week? What did he think of the rumors that Mark in Accounting and Susan in Intelligence had finally hooked up? Did he like Saturdays as much as Tony did? Instead, he lets the quiet stretch between them.

"I guess we'd better buckle down for the night so we're worth something tomorrow," Tim finally says.

"Yeah," Tony smirks, "and some of us need our beauty sleep more than others."

"Well, I wasn't going to say anything, but you have been looking a little peaked lately," Tim teases.

"Oh yeah, and you're McFresh-and-Fit," Tony adds as much sarcasm as he can, but it's late and he's a little too amused to pull it off.

"I guess you'd know if you were looking." And Tony can tell it's out of Tim's mouth before the younger man really thinks about it.

The weighted quiet comes back, but this time it's much more loaded. "Kinda hard not to look on Saturdays," Tony says after a minute.

"I—" Tim starts and stops and the moment's so charged it's like electricity's rippling from where Tony sits in his apartment all the way to Silver Springs where Tim sits in his, "you don't look so tired yourself on Saturdays."

"Well, don't go out on a limb or anything," Tony teases, and just like that, the moment evens out like they hadn't just blatantly noticed something about each other that guys aren't supposed to notice about each other.

"Well, it's not so much a true limb as it is a thin branch."

"Hey!"

"A sturdy branch!"

"Goodnight, Probie," Tony pointedly says.

"Okay, okay, so maybe a bonzai tree."

"Goodnight, Tim," Tony chuckles as he bids again.

"Night, Tony," he says back in that soft voice again.

Tony waits a moment before he hangs up, and when he does, that quiet tone stays in his ear as he brushes his teeth, turns out the light, and slips between the sheets. It echoes in his mind as he drifts off into sleep.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

The case moves slowly over the next two days. Ducky has to rule the death a homicide due to the conflicting evidence and the fact that once an incident has been labeled suicide, NCIS no longer has the authority to investigate it. Gibbs doesn't want to give up on the commander, and the lack of progress so obviously irritates him that even Abby has taken to limiting her contact with him.

The only bright spots for Tony during the time period are when Tim invites him to check out his favorite houses on the slowly narrowing list of places he's interested in. They manage to find a very understanding realtor who works with the unreasonably late hours they have to stay in the Yard. Of course, it doesn't hurt that she recognizes Tim from the back of her copy of the first Deep Six novel (which Tim obligingly signs when she brings it with her on the second day). Tony gives Tim a long suffering sigh at the completely unnecessary adoration, but by Wednesday evening, Tim's blushing starts getting pretty funny anyways, so Tony chalks it up to a win.

The homes' locations and their square footage in the master bedrooms and the studies are of the most concern to Tim, while Tony's still bucking for a yard and has to set Probie to rights on what he should and should not accept for his new kitchen. He's pretty sure he gets Tim to see the allure of the hot tub in the place on R Street, though he can tell Tim still prefers the townhouse with the enormous shower—which Tony can't help but to notice is definitely big enough for three people—near Folger Park. He knows he doesn't quite manage to sell Tim on the yard idea, but Tony's pretty sure he's wearing him down. In fact, by the second day, he's fairly certain Tim'll get the yard just to shut him up about it.

The break in the case doesn't come until Thursday. They put the house hunting on hold when Boss gets a hit from the woman living next door to the commander. When Gibbs and Tony re-interview her, she suddenly remembers Mitchell's little brother had been in town for the week but left in a hurry the day before the body was found. Gibbs leaves her house more pissed than when he came in, despite the fresh lead. Boss shakes his head over the wasted time, and his driving back to the Yard is almost as erratic as Ziva's usually is.

Tim finds the brother in short order. The younger Mitchell checked into a local Motel Six with his own credit card and has been there since the night Commander Mitchell died.

Once the brother's been located, the team gears up, but Boss stalls Tim when he goes for his gun, ordering Tim to stay and finish piecing together the phone records and financials for the Commander's wife—just in case the lead on the kid brother falls through. And the thing is, even though it's a little heavy handed of Gibbs to demand the information now, they _do_ need the data to confirm the soon-to-be-ex-Mrs. Mitchell isn't hiding anything, but as Tim's face falls nearly flat of emotion watching the rest of the team scurry for the door, Tony knows that Tim only sees how marginal his task is, not how very much Gibbs wants an airtight case for the prosecutors.

Tony bites his lip, but there's no time to offer Tim a word about it. As it is, Tony practically has to run to keep up with Gibbs and Ziva. He takes a quick second to peek back at Tim just before they reach the elevator. He feels his shoulders pinch up as he watches the stiffness in Tim's posture, suddenly feeling Tim's exclusion as if it were his own.

Still, Tony shoves Tim to the back of his mind as the rest of the team drives to the motel, gets permission from the manager, and storms into Jared Mitchell's room. The kid, who's barely 22 according to his Virginia driver's license, freezes when they breach the entrance but doesn't try to run or resist in the slightest.

The younger Mitchell doesn't say a word of protest when Ziva secures his cuffs a little more tightly than necessary. Tony can understand her impulse after the week they've had with Gibbs riding their asses, but he can't help but see the sadness and defeat on the kid's face. It's not the expression of a killer. _The death must have been an accident_, Tony concludes, still watching the boy. _If he's guilty at all, that is,_ Tony corrects himself with a frown.

He and Ziva take to the observation room as Gibbs leads Jared Mitchell to interrogation to cool his heels, not that the kid's heels need much in the way of cooling. Tony thinks it must be the pronounced sadness that seeps from the younger Mitchell and throughout the whole room that makes Gibbs change his mind, stop before reaching the door, and start the interview.

"Must have been hard," Gibbs throws out the first ball, waiting to see if he'll get a hit. When the kid doesn't bite, he continues, "Being the kid brother of a successful Navy officer like Commander Mitchell."

Jared just shrugs.

"Bet your parents were pretty proud of him."

The boy clears his throat, "Our dad was," he says. "We have different mothers."

Gibbs nods in understanding and takes a seat across from him. Despite the kid's defeated demeanor, Tony can't help but get a bit of a thrill as he watches Gibbs start the process of reeling him in.

"Didn't think you had much contact with your dad," Gibbs prods using Tim's earlier research—and there it is, the kid flinches—direct hit.

"I guess I didn't," he shrugs, hurt coming off of him in waves.

"Your brother did, though," Boss leads, "Was raised by him, even, but you didn't even meet your father until you were 18, did you?"

Jared freezes. He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, hesitates, then shakes his head.

"Must have made you mad," Gibbs tilts his head, and Tony can imagine that stare he's giving the kid. He's seen it, felt it, a thousand times or more.

Jared twists his neck to the side, "For a long time it did."

"I'd be really angry at my father if he ignored me the way your dad ignored you. I'd be pretty pissed at my brother, too."

The kid jerks his gaze back to look at Gibbs. "Mike was good to me after he found out who I was," Jared insists.

Gibbs shrugs, "Doesn't mean you weren't angry at him. For a while, at least."

Brow furrowed, the kid squints in confusion, "I don't know, I guess. Maybe until I met him or something."

Gibbs nods his understanding, and opens the file folder in front of Jared, tosses the photos of Mitchell's corpse into Jared's viewing. "That why you killed him?" Gibbs fires the first hardball. "Because you were angry?"

When the boy's not shocked by the pictures, it's obvious that he's seen the image of his dead brother before. Tony gets that flare of satisfaction that always bubbles up when they find the right guy. The feeling's contradicted by the quivering of the kid's lip, though, and the way his eyes fill with tears that he won't quite let fall down his cheeks. Jared traces the line of his brother's head in the photo, thumb grazing the likeness of his brother's forehead as if the commander were right there with him.

The kid doesn't so much as shake his head, but he quietly refuses Gibbs' interpretation of events when he claims, "Meeting Mike was the best thing that ever happened to me. He helped me straighten out my life. Made me get my GED. I was even looking at college classes." He sniffs, "None of that would have come about without him."

"He was up for promotion," Gibbs comes back with an apparent non sequitur. "Did he tell you?"

Jared swipes at his face and nods, "Yeah," a tear manages to escape from the corner of his eye.

"Was that it?" Gibbs stands and walks around the table, places his hand beside Jared's arm, which is now huddled around the photo as if protecting the very image. "Was that what changed?" Gibbs lowers his head, gets right next to the boy's ear. "What pissed you off? That no matter how much he helped you get your life in order, he'd always have it better?"

Tony barely catches the kid shake his head in denial because, next thing he knows, Probie slams into the observation room in a blur. "Has he said anything?" Tim demands.

Tony squints at Tim, "Boss is just about to break him," he points to the glass and the now sobbing kid on the other side of the two-way mirror.

Tim winces and digs for his phone on the inside pocket of his jacket. Tony doesn't have to see to know he's dialing Gibbs. On the other side of the glass, Boss lifts his hand to his waist to silence the vibration of his phone. His face pinches in irritation at the interruption, though the kid seems to remain unaware of it, but Gibbs doesn't acknowledge the call otherwise.

Tim takes a deep breath beside Tony and marches out of the room in a hurry.

"Wait, you're not going to interrupt him?" Tony takes a step for him and raises a hand towards Tim's back in disbelief.

Tony swings his head back around quickly, just catching Ziva's cringe at the grief Probie's setting himself up for by walking into interrogation right now.

Tim knocks on the door and opens it right away. Gibbs' wrath seems not that dissimilar from what Lot's wife must have see when she looked back on Sodom. Tony winces—hard. "Ooh, this is _not_ good."

"Boss, I need a minute," Tim lifts his chin to the dressing down he has to know is coming.

Gibbs narrows his eyes at McGee, breath coming hard from his nose as anger actually makes his face redden. "Not a good time, Mc_Gee_," Boss gives a heavy emphasis to the second syllable of Probie's name, which is never, never, _never_ (seriously never) a good sign.

"It's urgent," Tim insists, then walks back into the hallway, leaving the door wide open and forcing Gibbs to get up and shut it or come out and talk to him, but making him walk over and away from the interview in either case .

Tony runs to the Observation Room's door the second Gibbs straightens up. He peeks out at the threshold, not willing to put himself into _this_ line of fire despite his affection for Tim. Ziva's right behind Tony, fighting for real estate at the entry way.

Gibbs all but slams the door, shoving right into Tim's space, forcing McGee back until he's flat against the wall. "You _never_ interrupt an interrogation," he sticks a finger into Tim's face. "I should never have had to tell you that twice," he points back toward the room. "That kid was inches away from confessing, and now he has time to regroup, to think of something plausible that might get him out of the hot water he's in," and Tony knows Gibbs is actually angrier than even _he_ normally would be at these circumstances considering how long it's taken them to come to what should have been an easy conclusion to the case.

"Can I say something?" McGee asks, lips pursed, face inches away from Gibbs' but not giving into the urge Tim absolutely _has_ to have to look away from Gibbs at his most pissed.

"No," Gibbs tightens his lip again, his body already backing away from the conversation even as his face remains all but against McGee's, "and if you _ever_ interrupt an interrogation again, I _will_ have your ass."

"Jared Mitchell is innocent," Tim speaks as soon as Boss' body is turned enough to lay a hand on the doorknob. "After Mrs. Mitchell's phone records and financials came up clean, I dug a little deeper into the commander's computer activity. It was hidden, but the path to the data was there: I found the commander's suicide note," he continues. "It's a video that shows Jared Mitchell walking into his brother's study while the commander's telling his webcam why he wants to die." Tim tilts his head and gets a bitter slant to his lips that Tony's barely ever seen. "Jared Mitchell interrupted the attempt and tried to wrestle the gun away from him. He couldn't save him, but he tried damn hard to do it," it was a rare curse from Tim, and rarer still for it to be directed to Gibbs. "Thought you might like to know before you coaxed a confession out of an innocent man."

Gibbs shuts his eyes, hand still on the doorknob. He doesn't move a millimeter when Tim turns away from him and walks in silence past Tony and Ziva towards the bullpen. Gibbs only looks up when Tim's rounded the corner. Then he follows Tim's path, Tony and Ziva trailing right after him.

They get back to their cubicle just as Tim cues up the video on the plasma.

A deep wrinkle appears between Gibbs' eyes, and when he speaks, his voice is soft in what passes for an apology from him. "What d'ya got?"

Tim tilts his head in their direction but doesn't look at any of them. "Commander Mitchell's browsing history was clean, and the activity associated with his IP address didn't show anything, but his brother has to be a hacker because somebody masked the data stream shortly after a large file had been sent out at the commander's approximate time of death," Tim purses his lips, and Tony can tell his partner's fighting to keep his face as blank as possible. "The commander was streaming when he died," Tim concludes, hitting 'play' as he does, and there it is, Commander Michael Mitchell offering his last words in what is easily recognizable as the computer chair where he died. The gun is clearly visible and is as noteworthy as the shocked voice of his brother, arriving just as Commander Mitchell is talking about how he's unfit to be a husband and father, unfit for command. The subsequent struggle for the gun moves on and off the screen, but when it's over, Mitchell's dead, and his brother is crying.

"I knew you wouldn't want to wait for a warrant," Tim continues, almost completely without inflection, "so I hacked into the server that hosts the feed at Frontend Industries. I had to use cross-site scripting because I couldn't fuzz it," Tim goes into his technobabble, and Tony knows he's doing it on purpose, prodding Boss into irritation because Tim's angry enough himself to actually want to piss _Gibbs _off.

Gibbs runs his tongue over his teeth, keeps his eyes on the plasma, his head level when he says, "This is good work, Tim."

"Thank you," Tim narrows his eyes as he acknowledges the praise, his words entirely flat now. There's no gratitude or pride in his voice at the rare compliment, and if Tony didn't know better, he would think Tim didn't care at all. But Tony does know better, and he can see right through to the hurt fueling Tim's studied indifference. Tim moves around Ziva and Tony where they stand in the middle of the aisle. He calmly and deliberately places the plasma remote on Gibbs' desk next to his lamp, then walks back to his own workstation where he slowly sits down at his computer and continues to work in that same achingly methodical way.

"I just got started on the warrant for the video," Tim continues without looking up. "It should be ready within the hour so Ducky can reclassify Commander Mitchell's death."

Gibbs rubs at his mouth and turns back to interrogation, probably to collect the crime scene photos of Commander Mitchell's dead body and to give a few kind words to the kid before they're able to get the warrant that will officially let them dismiss Jared Mitchell as a suspect in the death of his brother. Hopefully, the Navy will cut him a break on the whole tampering with evidence thing, and the kid can leave with a clean record.

Meanwhile, Tony exchanges a look with Ziva. They make a game plan without words. She quietly follows Gibbs into interrogation, knowing as well as Tony does that her recent irritation with McGee will make Tim completely unreachable to her. Even when Tony and McGee are left alone together in the team's cubicle, though, Tim remains stiff, his posture making him untouchable even to Tony.

Tony doesn't say a word, just walks over to his workstation and grabs the Nutter Butter he'd been saving for a bad day from his middle drawer. He gently places it on the corner of Tim's desk, not waiting to see if Tim so much as acknowledges it, instead, turning right back around to get started on the case's closing paperwork at his own computer. Tony very carefully keeps his eyes on his own screen. He doesn't even look over when he hears the loud crunch Tim makes as he bites into his candy bar, but Tony smiles at the sound, grateful for the slight connection between them, and for the hope that this will all blow over.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

The anger fuels Tim for the rest of the day, through the monotony of confirming the warrant, the intermittent stares he feels from all sides of the cubicle, and the growing certainty in his gut that he must be in the wrong place in his life if everything gets this pear-shaped during his everyday routine.

He closes down his workstation the moment Gibbs clears them to go—half an hour early due to the overtime they've been putting in on this case. Tony's on his tail before Tim makes it to the end of the hallway.

"We still meeting Annie Wilkes tonight at the townhouse in Crystal City?" Tony runs to catch him.

"Her name's Jena Santos," Tim corrects for the thousandth time, simply not able to appreciate Tony's _Misery_ reference at the moment. "And no, I cancelled on her a few hours ago."

"How about dinner, then?" Tony persists.

Tim bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs, not wanting to get locked up with Tony, who's not at all above using the emergency stop to trap them together. "I don't feel like it tonight, Tony," he shakes his head. "I just want to go home and be done with today."

"Okay, I'll grab some Chinese and meet you there," Tony pushes.

Tim gives Tony a sideways glance, "How many times have you pointed out that my apartment is not exactly conducive to having company over?"

Tony grabs his arm, yanking him to a stop. "So come over to my place," he insists. "You can leave anytime you want, and I'll even let you win at Guitar Hero."

"Please," Tim jerks his head backward. "I'm so much better at it than you are, it's ridiculous!"

"So prove it," Tony squeezes his arm, and Tim feels warm for the first time all day.

He glances up to Tony's eyes before dropping his gaze down to the place where Tony grips his arm. He shrugs one shoulder and gives one solid shake of his head.

"Come on," Tony cajoles, grabs Tim's other arm as well, and then shifts Tim's body back and forth like a marionette. "Greasy food, video games," he peers down until he finds Tim's eye, "Porn?"

Tim chuffs but can't help but grin. He feels himself caving and knows Tony senses it too.

"Come on," Tony urges one more time, tugging Tim's shirt sleeve in the direction of their cars.

Tim shrugs and turns, letting Tony lead him over to where he's parked. He sees Tony hesitate once Tim unlocks the doors to his Porsche. Tony bites his lip and doesn't quite loosen his grasp enough for Tim to open the door.

"I'll meet you there," Tim promises, raising his eyebrows at Tony's continued grip.

Tony smiles and lets him go. Tim considers, for maybe half a second, going home anyway, blowing Tony off, but Tony would just come after him regardless. He wouldn't let Tim go and then he'd bitch for half the night about it besides. The thought makes Tim smile right back.

"Thanks, Tony," Tim says as he ducks into the vehicle.

"I'll see you there," Tony points to Tim as he closes the door for him.

Tony hustles around to his own car, and Tim lets him lead the way to his place, not that he needs to give the idea of trailing behind any conscious thought whatever because Tim's the most cautious driver on the team, always keeping at or under the speed limit, always mindful of obeying the road signs along the way. Tony always says it's a damn shame Tim doesn't open up the throttle and take on the highway full force what with a car like his. And it's not that Tim doesn't want to, sometimes at least, it's just that it's hard to forget what it feels like to crash when you let things get away from you.

They arrive at Tony's fairly quickly. Tony flicks on his PS3 just as Tim enters the apartment behind him. Tim locks and bolts the door right away, knowing Tony prefers to secure the latches as soon as he walks in. Tim walks into the kitchen, checking out the various takeout menus where they sit beside the microwave.

"What do you think about subs?" he hollers towards the living room.

"Get me a meatball sub," Tony yells back. "Oh, and get some sodas. I ran out last night."

Tim makes the order, tempted by the idea of a meatball sub himself, but he gets a turkey sandwich instead, trying to keep the calories down. He adds a coke for Tony and a diet for himself, then starts weighing the benefits of a salad against his craving for potato chips. He gets one of each. Tony'll want chips anyway, so Tim'll just make him share a couple with him.

They trash talk while they compete on Guitar Hero but don't say much otherwise. They take a break from the game play when the food arrives, and Tony suggests a movie while they eat. To Tim's surprise, he breaks out Star Wars—Episode V at that. Tony always makes fun of Tim because it's his favorite in the series, though Tony's one to talk since he loves watching the Ewoks—the Ewoks! Still, it's not as though it's The Phantom Menace or anything, so Tim usually lets it slide.

They spur on the Rebels through the evacuation of Hoth and make fun of Han and Leia when they exit the 'Falcon in the asteroid 'cave' wearing only oxygen masks. They're already finished with their sandwiches before Tony says a word about their bad day.

"That was a good save you made today, Probie," Tony throws out there.

"Mmm," Tim hums noncommittally, then looks down to the remnants of his salad and wrinkles his nose at the wilting lettuce. He leans over to the middle of the couch and steals a chip from Tony's snack bag. He stuffs it in his mouth, hoping to emphasize how very much he doesn't want to have this conversation by keeping his mouth full.

Tony chuckles, "I couldn't believe it when you stared Gibbs down like that in the hallway," Tony grabs Tim's attention by skipping the bullshit he normally would have spouted about how Gibbs really does respect Tim, and it was just an off day, and blah, blah, blah.

Tim swallows the chip and takes a quick sip of his soda. He bites his lip, considering, and Tony stays quiet beside him for once, seeming to realize Tim's working up to something.

Tim puts his salad on the end table beside him and turns to look Tony right in the eye when he tells him, "I've been thinking about transferring to another team."

Tony swallows hard. He blinks and purses his lips, but there's nothing in his body language that says that he's surprised at the announcement. "Don't," Tony says, his voice as small as a child's, and Tim's reminded of just how much Tony hates change. "It'll get better," Tony claims but ducks his head when he says it.

"No, Tony," Tim shakes his head and keeps his gaze right on his partner. "I've said that to myself for a long time, but it hasn't gotten better, and it won't."

"You don't know that," Tony insists.

Tim shakes his head in disbelief, "What is there _not_ to know? Gibbs has no idea how unique my skill set is. He has absolutely no appreciation for how hard I work because he doesn't understand what I do. He's never even tried to understand." Tim thumps his thigh with the side of his palm in frustration. "For crying out loud, Tony, he has so little respect for me as an agent, that he almost never sends me out in the field if he can avoid it!"

Tony throws the remnants of his sandwich at the coffee table, stands and starts pacing between the couch and his big screen TV. He's breathing hard, his face indecisive when he turns back towards McGee for the third time. A split second afterward, a look of resolve comes across his features and then he turns on Tim, "It's not like you've ever fucking tried to make it work either!"

Tim narrows his eyes and jumps up to face DiNozzo. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Tony's breathing heavily from his mouth with teeth clenched and lips curling and uncurling almost spastically, like he doesn't want to continue, and Tim suddenly knows with certainty that whatever Tony's got to say is gonna hurt like a bitch. "You come into work," Tony's teeth clench harder as he spits out the words, "and you take whatever Gibbs dishes out, which granted, we all do to a certain extent, but you never put yourself out there. You always let him choose for you, and you never push for more. You don't take any risks!"

Tim steps forward, blinking in amazement. "Do you have any idea what sort of penalties I could face for breaking into all the computer systems I've hacked for Gibbs? Today wasn't even the tip of the iceberg! If someone had caught me breaking into the CIA, I'd be seriously fucked! I mean GiTMO fucked! I've taken more chances than you _ever_ have for this job," he shoves a finger into Tony's chest.

Tony looks down to the digit pressing into his shirt, flicks his eyes right back up to Tim's. "And yet you won't stand up to Gibbs."

"Oh, like you do," he jerks his chin towards Tony.

"Yeah," Tony nods, "I do, but I don't bother arguing about bullshit. I tell him what matters when it's really on the line, and this," he swallows hard. "_You_ are really on the line, but you are the one who needs to talk to him. You're the one who has to stand up and demand what you want because he's not going to respect you if I'm the one fighting your battles."

Tim drops the finger and lifts his chin, "I've never asked you to fight my battles."

"No," Tony shakes his head, lips curling upward in the middle, a look of displeasure (or maybe even disgust?) sweeping over his features. "You don't ask anybody for help, do you? Not even when you really need it."

The air seems to rush from Tim's lungs, leaving a vacuum in its place. "I came to you, didn't I?" Tim finds himself blinking rapidly, wondering if this thing between them—this closeness that had only just begun—was ending. "I asked you to help me with this thing with Abby."

"Yeah," Tony wraps a firm hand around Tim's upper arm and rubs his thumb along Tim's bicep. "And I'm glad you did."

Tim purses his lips and looks down between them, not sure how this conversation started with him being defensive and led to him feeling lost.

"I want you to keep coming to me," Tony continues softly, dipping his head a little to get back into Tim's line of sight, "But you have to know you can go to Gibbs, too."

Tim shakes his head, but doesn't move away from Tony's grip. "I don't—" he winces, feeling like he owes Tony this honesty but not sure if he can force it out of himself, "He's not there for me like he is for you. It's easy for you to go to him, but God, Tony, he can't even stand to stay in the same room with me when it's just the two of us! We run out of things to say to each other within a couple minutes and then he shuts himself into whatever he's working on or just leaves the room." Tim blinks and bites his lip. "How am I supposed to—" he sniffs, "I can't—it's like working with my father every day!"

Tony visibly startles at that, and Tim twists out of his partner's startled grasp. He shows him his back, takes a few steps away, and swipes at his eyes before Tony can see firsthand how wet they are.

"I thought your father…" Tony stops and starts. "I mean, I guess we all thought…"

"I know what you thought," Tim shuts his eyes and runs his hand through his hair. "I just…how do you contradict an assumption like that without being disrespectful?"

Tim hears Tony close the distance between them, "Disrespectful to you father," Tony clarifies softly, though Tim doesn't know how it's not completely obvious who he means.

Tim shrugs, wipes his nose with the end of his sleeve even though it's a completely disgusting thing to do. "At least Gibbs doesn't—" he blinks just realizing what he's about to reveal. "At least I had a chance of getting it right with Gibbs," he settles on saying.

Tony reaches up with both hands to clasp Tim's shoulders. He squeezes, and Tim tries not to but finds himself relaxing into the touch anyway. "You should talk to him, to Gibbs," Tony clears up before Tim can relate the suggestion to his father. "He's not going to push you away because you tell him you want something different from him."

Tim takes a harsh breath and lets it go as slowly as possible, trying to keep his breathing under control. "I don't even know how I could possibly start that conversation."

Tony moves a little closer to his back, until he's near enough to talk softly just beside Tim's ear, until it seems like he's close enough to press his body up against Tim's back if he wanted to. "Forget social niceties with Gibbs," Tony's softly spoken advice tickles his ear. "Just go in there and say exactly what you want and exactly what pisses you off. He'll be glad to hear it, I promise."

Tim nods, sniffs one more time, but the sound seems so conspicuous in the slight space between them, "I should go," he tells Tony, actually tries to move to grab his things, but Tony's fingers tug at his shoulders—just a little—and Tim stops moving altogether, grateful for the insistence of Tony's grip. He doesn't really want to leave. It's just that he feels so naked right now.

"At least watch the end of the movie," Tony prods, calling Tim's attention to Han and Leia, about to realize they walked into a trap on Cloud City. "I want to see what happens," Tony teases, and it's just the right thing to make Tim laugh.

Tim brings a hand up to Tony's where it grasps his shoulder, and he squeezes. "I gotta," he gestures in the direction of the bathroom, not turning yet, embarrassed enough without Tony seeing his face.

"Yeah, okay," Tony lets him go. He keeps the movie on and doesn't look behind him when Tim enters the bathroom. Tim splashes water on his face and blows his nose twice. He washes his hands and just looks at himself in the mirror, wondering if he's lost some of Tony's respect for breaking down like he did.

He shakes his head. _Tony's not the type to hold something like this against me_, he reminds himself, but he hesitates almost another full minute before he walks back into the living room.

"Hey, just in time," Tony glances up when Tim returns, but then quickly, but not too quickly, looks back to the movie, "Luke's about to stand on his head and fantasize about his sister."

"It was a vision, Tony, not a fantasy," Tim digs in by reflex as he retakes his seat. The start of the argument's like an immediate balm, helping to restore his equilibrium right away.

"Please, Tim!" Tony jerks his head backward. "They kissed at the beginning of the movie. He was totally diggin' her before he found out they were related."

"Eh, I would concede he was into her maybe a little," Tim crinkles his nose, "but if you look at that scene, you can tell Luke gains more enjoyment out of one upping Han than he does out of kissing Leia," Tim points to the screen.

"Ha!" Tony huffs, and when Tim looks over, the older man's looking right back at him. "Every guy likes a hot girl to grab him by the ears and kiss him."

Tim shrugs his head to one side, "Maybe Luke would have rather _Han_ grab him by the ears and kiss him," he posits with what he knows to be a lazy smile across his face, feeling unexpectedly intrigued by the idea himself.

"You think Luke was gay?" Tony raises an eyebrow, and the look makes Tim nervous for a second because, for a moment, there's a heaviness that almost feels like Tim's brought up a taboo between them. But there's no derision in Tony's face or tone, only curiosity and a little amusement, maybe a hint of out and out interest in his voice.

Tim tilts his head again, smile still solid on his face. "Are you telling me you didn't notice the huge and embarrassing man-crush Luke has on Han?"

"A man-crush is hardly the same think as a crush-crush," Tony looks at him and opens both palms to the ceiling as he reverts to junior high terminology.

Tim shakes his head and readjusts his position on the couch, turning his whole body towards Tony. "But how different is it really?" he asks. "A crush is all about interests and chemistry, whether it's a man-crush or a crush-crush," he grins anew to use Tony's term.

"Well, it's not like a guy wants to have sex with a man-crush," Tony shakes his head, but the motion and even his words lack the vigor of his usual arguments, like he's waiting to see how Tim might prove him wrong.

"You're sure about that?" Tim tilts his head, intrigued by the fascination on Tony's face. "Maybe that bit of chemistry behind a man-crush just needs an extra push, a bit of permission to play around away from social norms."

"So all guys with man-crushes want to go to bed with them?"

"Maybe," Tim weighs the idea, head swaying back and forth as he considers, "maybe not. But maybe all that chemistry really is a repressed sexual attraction."

Tony licks his lips, and Tim can't help but remember now, too late, Tony's reaction to that metro detective last year. Ziva had been quite vocal in calling the fast burning friendship a man-crush.

"You could be right, McFreud," Tony says, one side of his lips curling upward, "but I wouldn't start yelling the theory from the rooftops just yet," Tony turns back to the movie as he concludes the thought.

Tim watches Tony's profile another moment before forcing his own eyes back to the screen. He feels his breath coming a bit faster. He tries to get lost in the movie, hoping to slow down the rapid rise and fall of his chest, hoping Tony doesn't notice, wondering what Tony would do if he did notice.

The movie ends almost without Tim realizing. Tony suggests another, but when Tim checks his watch, the hour's a little too late to finish another film tonight and still make it home at a decent hour. He's just about to shake his head when Tony adds:

"You could just sleep over," the words come out nonchalantly, but Tim can't help but feel an added weight to them. "You have an extra set of clothes in your car, don't you?"

"I—" Tim's brow crinkles, "Yeah…" his voice trails off. He feels like he shouldn't accept, but he honestly wants to find a reason to stay.

Tony shrugs, "So grab your bag, and we'll make a night of it."

Tim glances at the couch, considering.

"It's not like you have to take the sofa," Tony dismisses the idea, though Tim hadn't even thought that far ahead. "I've got a queen," he points down the hall towards his bedroom.

Tim's eyes flick up to Tony's in a hurry. Looking up from beneath his lashes, Tim can see the nervousness in his friend's gaze, and suddenly Tim relaxes because he knows now that he's not the only one who's worried about screwing this up and overstepping the new boundaries they're forming between them.

"Okay," Tim acquiesces, eyes still locked with Tony's.

Tony nods. He jumps up from the couch and over to his gigantic movie collection, "Ooh! What do you think of _Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels_?"

"Never seen it," Tim shakes his head and smiles, just waiting for Tony's reaction.

"You've never—Probie, we're going to have to work on your cinematic education!" he proclaims, scandalized.

"Yeah, alright," Tim waves his hand in concession, smile still stretching wide across his lips. "I'll go get my bag if you want to set it up."

"Got it covered," Tony reaches into his cabinet and unerringly picks up the exact DVD he wants.

Tim's smile lasts the whole way as he makes a run for the car, yanks his lock box and his bag of spare clothes and toiletries from the trunk, and scurries back up to Tony's apartment. The look of pleased anticipation on Tony's face makes him glad he took Tony up on the offer.

Tony excitedly starts buzzing about the movie the second Tim retakes his seat. Tim lets the sound wash over him as he kicks off his shoes and leans back against the cushions, settling in for the duration.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

Tony wakes to find Tim's face a foot away from his. He turns and checks the readout on the clock, only to discover they just have a few minutes left before the alarm blares.

Tony settles into the pillow, wanting those few more minutes to relax and gather his thoughts before the day speeds into fifth gear. He tries not to watch Tim, knowing how creepy it is to wake up to someone's eyes on you, but it's nice and so rare to wake up and see a friendly face in his bed, at least one that he doesn't want to shove out the front door in order to get a little privacy before he has to make his way into work.

Tony shuts his eyes for maybe a minute, just enjoying the warmth of his bed, the subtle breath of his company beside him. When he pries open his lids again, he reaches over to Tim without sitting up. Tony shakes his shoulder.

"Hmm," the soft sound escapes Tim, making Tony smile.

"Hey, Probie," Tony speaks quietly so not to break the soft spell of morning. "Time to go to work."

Tim lifts his eyebrows, his eyes still closed, and Tony knows he's on his way to consciousness. "Get up, Tim," Tony shakes his shoulder one more time. "I'm going to make coffee."

Tim makes that quiet hum again as Tony steps out of bed and turns off the alarm before it can blare into their quiet morning. Tony goes for the coffee maker right away, then slips towards the bathroom to take a quick shower. When he makes his way to the kitchen, towel around his waist, Probie's already there, mug in hand, another cup of coffee just beside him on the counter.

Tony grabs the mug and takes a minute to add milk and sugar to his brew. Turning back to Tim after shoving the carton of two percent back inside the fridge, Tony notices his partner's focus trained on the floor in front of him with studied concentration.

Tony swallows hard and licks his lips at that unyielding and unnatural intensity. Usually when Tim gets that focused he seems unaware of loaning out his full concentration, but this seems to be a conscious choice, like he's avoiding looking elsewhere. Tony feels his breath speed up. He carefully leans back against the counter, stretching his legs out in front of him in a measured movement as he wonders if Tim had been looking at him before giving the floor his death glare, wonders if Tim ever looks at him between Saturdays. His own eyes stuck on the kitchen table, Tony takes a quick sip from his mug. The brew's a little more bitter than usual. He must have loaded his scoops a little too heavily.

Tim clears his throat, "I'm just gonna," he sets his coffee down and points toward the bathroom.

"Yeah, okay," Tony answers hurriedly.

They speed up their routine after Tim gets out of the shower. They don't have time to stop for doughnuts, so they each grab a pop tart as they head out the door. Tony leads their tiny convoy to work, making a few lights Tim doesn't, and he gets to the Yard a solid five minutes before Tim.

Tony heads up to the bullpen right away, trying to get a feel for the room before Tim comes up. Both Ziva and Gibbs are already there. Ziva's returning emails, while Gibbs is busting through the closing paperwork on Colonel Mitchell's suicide.

The elevator dings as Tony boots up his computer. He looks up just in time to catch Tim exit onto their floor. Gibbs glances McGee's way as he enters their cubicle, but only his eyes move, and Tony doubts Tim could have caught that slight motion from his angle, that is, if he were bothering to look at Gibbs at all.

Tim settles at his desk with a perfunctory "Good morning," that he aims more towards Tony than anyone else. Probie moves through his morning routine in near silence, and Tony is honestly unsure if he should attribute the quiet to residual anger or if Tim just switched over into thinking mode.

Tony catches a couple concerned glares from Ziva, but all he can do is shake his head with his own confusion. Ziva sighs after a while, finally giving up the silent interrogation.

By the time nine o'clock comes around, the pencil Probie's torturing between his teeth finally lets Tony take a breath—just Tim's violent thinking thing again. A few minutes later, Probie asks Ziva to check on a Spanish translation from Petty Officer Rodriguez's mother. The young seaman had gone UA four days ago, and JAG had turned the case over to NCIS after a few oddities had appeared during their investigation.

"Of course, McGee," she comes back quickly and opens the document on her own computer.

Some of the tension immediately eases out of the room with the exchange, though Tony has to wonder how much of the stressed mood Tim actually caught on to. While Probie can occasionally be oblivious in the best of times, when he turns inward, it's sometimes like he can't see anything else at all. It used to frustrate the hell out of Tony until he figured out that he could almost always annoy Tim into pulling out of his shell, at least for a little while.

Tim volunteers to go on the lunch run a couple hours later. Gibbs follows him downstairs with the excuse that he's going to see Ducky. Tony seriously doubts Boss needs to talk to Ducky between dead bodies, but neither does he think Gibbs is actually looking to talk to Tim at the moment. Rather, Gibbs more than likely wants to get a feel for Probie's mood while they ride down on the elevator alone. If Tony were to guess, he'd say Gibbs wants to know if anything's really broken between the two of them. Tony would kind of like to know that himself.

A sigh across the way tells him Ziva wants to talk but doesn't want to have to bring up whatever subject she's looking to address. Tony obligingly glances up at her, offering a curious look.

"What was that?" he lifts his brows.

"What?" she lowers her eyelids like she has no idea what he's talking about, and she's trying to ignore his interruption.

"That sigh," he points out, pushing just a little away from his computer.

Ziva shakes her head, "I do not know what you are talking about, Tony."

Tony tilts his head, licks his lips, studies her forced casual posture. The easiest explanation is that it has something to do with Tim since she waited until he was gone to say anything. "So what happened between you and McGee on Monday?" he throws out there.

Ziva jerks her chin up. "Nothing." And Bam! He has contact.

"Nothing," the exaggerated nod of his head just telegraphing his disbelief. "Right."

She shrugs. "We may have had a disagreement."

"Oh, really?" he raises his eyebrows in mock surprise.

She bites her lip. "Tony, do you think," Ziva rises and closes the distance between them to stand in front of his desk. "Do you think I have left parts of myself in Israel? Do you think I am holding myself back from entering a new life here?"

Tony widens his eyes and sits back in his chair, surprise so strong he knows it's written all across his features. "Is that what McGee told you?" Tony tries to imagine Tim having the balls to say that to Ziva outside a life and death scenario, but then, on the other hand, Tim's surprised him a lot lately.

She looks down to his desk and picks up Tony's Mighty Mouse stapler, shuffling it from hand to hand and making Tony wince with concern. When she gets angry she tends to have a death grip.

She tilts her head to the side in a quick jerk, then releases her stapler hostage. Tony sighs with relief. "Yes. He did," she answers simply after several long seconds.

Tony waits for her to meet his eyes, looks to see if she wants a real response. "You lease a car," he starts, seeing the earnest expression on her face. "You keep all your money except your current salary back in Israel, despite the fact that it has to be a serious pain in the ass whenever you want to make a major purchase. You won't talk to you father, but you won't move his picture from your piano in the center of your living room," the brow deepens between her eyes, but he won't let himself stop because he knows Ziva won't hear it later if she doesn't listen to it now. "You've been seeing this Raymondo guy for eight months, but you barely talk about him to anyone, like you're waiting for it to end at any minute. The friends you have outside NCIS are always changing. You never keep in contact with any of them beyond a couple years," he tries to catch her stare, but Ziva's eyes are pointed downward, and not really looking towards anything at all. "No, you're not in Israel anymore, Ziva, but you're not completely here either."

She pulls a hand up to her mouth, resting her thumb on her lip. "My entire life, there was nothing I had that I could rely on to remain constant. It is," she takes a deep breath, "difficult to become accustomed to the idea that this could ever change," she confesses, "that I can actually relax and let myself want something in my life that exists in more than a temporary sense."

"Hey," Tony gains her attention with that small word. "We've always been in this for the long haul," he gestures around the cubicle.

Her mouth smiles at the support, but her eyes remain pinched, just like anyone's would be when they're given a hard truth.

Ziva nods her appreciation and silently turns back to her desk. The thoughtful look stays with her through the rest of the day.

Tim slowly and subtly returns to the conversation after lunch. By mid-afternoon, Tony's teasing earns him a smirk. Of course, he has to escalate his game after that, not giving up until he and Tim get into a small paper projectile war. Gibbs lets it go on a little longer than he normally would, but when Boss finally gives in and hollers at them, Tim doesn't so much as flinch. Tony's hope for the situation soars.

As they're leaving work that evening, Tony tries to cash in on his raincheck for Panarino's, but Tim turns him down, saying there's something important he has to do. He glances towards Gibbs right after he says it. Tony's almost certain Tim would have told him if he'd actually decided to move on the whole transferring bit that had nearly caused a panic in Tony last night, but with Tim's eyes on Gibbs, Tony has to wonder if he's wrong.


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note:_ Thank you so kindly to everyone following and especially those commenting on this story. I stopped being able to comment back on every one of them, but _all_ feedback is read and very sincerely appreciated. Thank you! My apologies for the hiatus.

This chapter is posted having had an exceptional leg up from betas Precious Pup and Mistress Desdemona. Thank you both so much for offering your skills and insights! This story is far the better for them!

_MTG_ is an abbreviation for _Magic: The Gathering_, which is a collectible trading card game. Tim briefly mentions it below.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Tim takes the long way home, mind made up, but heart still flinching at the thought of following through on his plan. He takes a shower when he gets in, relaxing into the soft heat of the spray. He takes his time getting dressed, toweling off carefully and even using the blowdryer Sarah'd left in his bathroom ages ago.

When he starts looking online to check for a new heatsink to replace the one Sarah's slowly killing, he decides it's time, and he makes his way out the door.

He's only been to Gibbs' house a dozen times or so, but his hands follow the route like he does it every day. Tim parks on the street, not wanting to have to worry about getting in and out of the driveway if he needs to leave quickly.

He has a hard time not knocking on the front door, the habit too deeply ingrained. Then, his hands nearly stutter in surprise as he turns the knob to find it unlocked, even though he honestly can't count the number of times Gibbs has said that he never turns the latch.

He tries to keep his steps consistent and sure, tries to really feel that confidence he's pushing hard to project. It kind of works. Tim goes right for the basement door and takes the steps at a clip. Gibbs is already looking at the stairs when he descends, either surprised because he knew the fall of Tim's footsteps above him or confused because he couldn't place his steps.

A few halting seconds after the two men make eye contact, Gibbs swallows and picks up a bit of sandpaper. Tim surprises himself when he immediately recognizes his Boss' disquiet in the way the older man tries to keep his hands busy. The thought gives McGee pause, makes him wonder all of a sudden—if Tim, who is almost never the most socially observant person in the room (aside from those _MTG_ tournaments during the Johns Hopkins years), can read Gibbs' misgivings through his body language, is it because Boss' uneasiness is _that_ obvious or has Tim just never looked closely enough before?

"Pick up a piece if you want," Gibbs gestures over to the pile of sandpaper, carefully paying heed to the new boat he's building while somehow making Tim realize he's still got the dragon's share of Gibbs' attention.

Tim looks to the square sheets, his hands almost itching to pick up that distraction, but he doesn't want to think about this too long before he speaks, doesn't want to consider what Gibbs' response will be to the words he's been struggling all day to give form to. Most of all, he _really_ doesn't want to imagine that maybe everything he knows and loves best about life could really be closing in on its natural end. After all, no one likes getting forced into a corner with an ultimatum, but Gibbs probably hates it more than anyone else Tim knows, and Tim's not so blind that he doesn't realize that's exactly where this discussion will go the second he opens his mouth again.

_Forget social niceties_, Tim abruptly recalls Tony's advice. _Just go in there and say exactly what you want and exactly what pisses you off. He'll be glad to hear it, I promise._

Tim sucks in a breath and moves closer to Gibbs, holding on to Tony's words as hard as he can as he leans against the boat right beside Boss and gets a massive amount of sawdust in his eyes. The proximity makes Gibbs lean away from the wooden skeleton to focus that last remaining bit of his attention on to Tim.

For a second, Tim feels a fury of invincibility sweep over him—it's that powerful an effect to have Gibbs' full concentration centered right on him. That rush bursts like a balloon at high altitude when Tim spies something defeated in Gibbs' gaze that he's never seen before in his Boss' eyes, never wanted to see, and suddenly, Tim can't recall a single one of the angry phrases he's been practicing in the back of his mind all day. Instead, it's as though a thousand small regrets and miniature defeats—all piggybacked one on top of the other and all centered around the team and especially this man—pass through Tim's mind so fast that he barely has time to remember the wound that brought him here. The truth is, that new scar forming between him and Gibbs isn't even why he came tonight, but he doesn't know what to ask for in order to get what he wants, what he's always wanted from the man in front of him.

Tim parts his lips but honestly doesn't know what's going to come out of his mouth until he says, "I don't like being left at the Yard while the three of you go out to follow a lead or make a collar. I am not your tech support. I'm a field agent, and I've earned the right to be out there just like everybody else."

Gibbs exhales a short and heavy puff of air. He drops his eyes from McGee's to look at the boat in front of him for a second, and Tim doesn't breathe at all while Gibbs seems to judge his words. "You're right," Gibbs tells Tim when the older man meets his gaze again. "You have earned it."

McGee squints at Gibbs, not sure yet if Gibbs really gets what he means from his own brief phrasing, or, moreover, if Boss is just agreeing with an observation or truly acquiescing to Tim's unspoken request.

"I'll get you into the field more," Gibbs promises, ending Tim's internal debate.

Tim stares at him another minute, not quite able to believe in the promise, but seemingly unable to push for anything further at the moment. Finally, McGee nods, feeling both his own breathless relief and Gibbs' unuttered equivalent at the brief motion. "Thanks," he tells his Boss, then turns around on suddenly jellied knees and starts for the stairs, feeling almost out of breath with gratitude as he walks away before a whisper of his worst case scenarios can rear their ugly taunts.

"You want to stay for dinner?" Gibbs asks before Tim can reach the second step.

Tim feels his brow furrow, his mind nearly stuttering at the invitation. He turns around, about to make his excuses, not really up to the stilted conversation such a dinner would provoke and not sure either way why Gibbs would want to prolong this interaction regardless. But when he looks at Gibbs again, he sees Boss' gently raised eyebrows and his open palms reaching up towards the ceiling. He watches Gibbs take a step towards him, notes the cautious tilt to his head, and somehow, McGee sees a bit of hope reflected back to him.

Tim angles his head as he processes the new data. "I—" Tim licks his lips. "Alright."

They don't talk much as they wait for the pizza to arrive. Apparently, Gibbs doesn't actually need to ask Tim what toppings he likes, but he does make sure McGee really wants the order he regularly gets when he's at work.

What conversation they make between them _is_ stilted and terribly awkward, but for once Gibbs seems to be trying to make as many inroads towards discussion as Tim does. It's not until Gibbs asks after Sarah that Tim really starts to relax where he sits on Gibbs' couch. Somehow, his little sister serves as a buffer between him and Gibbs, too.

Tim goes into the latest problems her rather cutting blog has gotten her into recently, especially with her current TA status as she works towards her master's. Apparently her new advisor found her site, and even though there's not a negative word about him in it, he 'strongly suggested' she lay off so she didn't lose her position in the program. McGee automatically starts to move into the heat sink issue since he highly suspects the lack of ventilation the computer gets when she's writing on her down bed is what's causing it to fail.

He delves into the debate he's been having with himself as to how or even whether he should go ahead and replace the part since he thinks she needs to take a little more responsibility for her actions, and this is as good a place to start as any. It's not until he's finished talking about it, though, that Tim realizes Gibbs' eyes haven't glazed over once.

Tim drops his own gaze, suddenly feeling almost bashful to have gotten so much of Gibbs' concentration angled towards him. And then the doorbell rings.

Gibbs waves Tim down when he tries to stand. The older man pays for the pies at the door and brings the boxes to lay on the coffee table. Tim glances towards the table in the next room, but when Gibbs simply opens the first box, he realizes eating at the couch must be the norm for him. He digs into his own pizza, kind of wishing for a paper towel. He's just about to lick the grease off his finger, which just—ew—when Gibbs tosses him a napkin from beneath his pizza box.

"Thanks, Boss," McGee says quietly, surprised again at the level of attention.

"You know," Gibbs begins quietly, "when you talk about Sarah, you almost sound like you're her father."

Tim jerks his neck over to look at Gibbs. His jaw stills. Boss' face may be casual, but his eyes aren't. Still, he looks more curious than knowing. Tim looks away. He shrugs and resumes chewing. "She's almost ten years younger than I am," Tim points out.

"And yet you never held her as a baby," Gibbs' voice is just as soft as it was a moment ago. It completely makes Tim's world stop. But then his Boss just tosses a pizza crust into the box and digs in for another slice.

Tim doesn't know what to say. And then he realizes he doesn't have to say a thing because Gibbs isn't actually asking anything.

That's probably what spurs him to blurt, "Sarah was a second chance for my father," Tim's lips purse, and he feels the color fade from them when he whispers, "until she disappointed him, too." He blinks slowly—the better to keep his face as blank as possible. "She comes to me when she's in trouble or she needs to talk or she needs to rant. I've never turned her away. I never would."

Gibbs sets a heavy hand in between his shoulder blades, gives him an approving pat. "You did good Tim," he tells McGee. "You're doing right by her." And then Gibbs reaches up to squeeze the back of Tim's neck and give a little shake. "You're not at all a disappointment to me," he adds, and something about the way he says it makes Tim ache to believe it.

It's another long moment before Gibbs drops his hand from McGee's neck, and Tim stays still the whole time, just letting himself feel the contact.

They talk about Gibbs' lawn after that, and Tim learns more about mulch than he ever wanted to know. It's kind of nice.


	13. Chapter 13

Posted with gratitude to Precious Pup and Mistress Desdemona for their kind betas. Thank you both!

Thanks also to Pirate to whom I could not respond but whose link to "The Golden Rule" I completely adored!

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><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

Tony's up by nine o'clock Saturday morning, unable to sleep or stay in bed any longer, too wrought by anxiety from not knowing exactly what Tim did last night.

He considers calling Tim, but it's not like Tim can't ignore the phone, and besides, Tony doesn't want to tip him off in case Tim tries to run.

It only takes Tony ten minutes to shave and dress. He picks up his cell and his keys, his fingers reaching for the door knob when the phone rings in his hand. He pulls it up to check the caller ID: _Probie_, it reads.

"Hunh," Tony drops his keys on the end table by the door. "Hello?"

"Hey," Tim begins, not a bit of stress in his tone. "I'm meeting Annie Wilkes in an hour at the condo near Dupont Circle," Probie uses Tony's nickname for his realtor. "You wanna come check it out with me?"

Tony's got more than a little confusion coming at him, "What about the Crystal City townhouse?" is all that comes out of his mouth. Tony's dying to know what happened between Tim and Gibbs last night, if Tim even met up with Boss like Tony suspects, that is. But then, if Tim did have it out with Gibbs, why is he in such a good mood? Tony keeps his mouth shut on the issue for the moment though, wanting to be able to check out Tim's face when he asks about it. Tim can lie a lot better on the phone than in person—when you're looking right at him Tim's eyes always give him away.

"Termites," Tim comes back succinctly. "Besides, the bridge is a bitch in the morning anyway, one fender bender and every lane gets backed up practically to the Pentagon anyway."

Tony raises his brows at the casual cursing. "Good point," Tony shuffles his phone from one ear to the other, feeling off balance. "Okay," Tony squints as if it'll help him judge Tim's responses better through the signal. "Yeah, I'll tag along. Do you want me to go ahead and meet you there?"

"Nah," Tim says, and Tony can practically see him waving his hand through the phone. "I'll pick you up. I Googled the directions earlier."

"Good, you can play navigator while I drive," Tony immediately latches onto the excuse to get into the driver's seat.

"I think I can follow my own directions, Tony," and this time, he really can hear Tim's smirk across the line.

"Oh, please," Tony argues. "When you're behind the wheel, it's like Driving Miss Daisy, but in a Porsche. It's embarrassing!" Tony picks up his keys once more.

"Hmm," Tim hums, goes quiet for a moment, the only sound coming down the wire is the jingling of Tim's keys, then Tim just hardlines it, "Ride with me or don't, but I'm driving. I'll be there in fifteen," he tells Tony, not waiting for a response.

Tony pulls the silent phone from his ear, checking the display to make sure it really has disconnected. "Hunh," Tony says once more, puzzled at Tim's aggressive tone.

True to his word, Tim shows up almost exactly fifteen minutes later—even has a minute to spare. _He must have already been on his way when he called_, Tony notes.

"You ready?" Tim asks, just waiting at the threshold of Tony's apartment.

Tony's gaze drops down and catches the black leather jacket Tim's worn the last two Saturdays. "Yeah, I'm good to go," he latches the door behind him and follows Tim down the stairs.

Tony just catches the pleased sheen to Tim's features when Tony steps into the Porsche with him.

"I thought maybe we'd catch some coffee and a sandwich on the way," Tim puts his arm on the seat behind Tony as he backs out of the parking space.

Tony nods, throat dry at the slight brush of Tim's leather jacket at the back of his neck. "Sounds good."

They stop at Dunkin Donuts because it's nearby and because, seriously, it's Dunkin Donuts. They go ahead and eat inside because they have the time to spare.

They're seated at a two-man booth with their breakfast before Tony brings up the pressing question, "So what was more important than Panarino's last night?"

Tim smirks, "Wondered how long it would take before you broke."

"Hey!" Tony jerks his chin out indignantly. It's just for show, but Tim waves him off anyway, telling him with that bare motion that he means no offense.

Tim takes a sip of his coffee, either genuinely thinking about how to paraphrase his evening or intentionally torturing Tony with the suspense of not knowing. Frankly, Tim can be evil at the most random times, so Tony certainly wouldn't put the latter explanation past him.

"I had a talk with Gibbs," Tim finally admits, quirking his head as he does.

Tony examines the pose carefully, but he can't spot a bit of remorse or unease. He can't decide if that's a good thing or a bad thing. He shakes his head, prodding Tim on, "And?"

Tim licks his lips, thinking again and driving Tony absolutely batshit insane in the bargain. "I let him know I'm a field agent, and I want to be out in the field."

Tony's breath exits slowly—he hadn't even realized he'd been holding it. "What did he say?"

"He said, 'okay,' and then he invited me to dinner. We had pizza," Tim finishes with a pleased smile.

Tony smiles right back and smacks Tim's hand beside his. "I _told_ you!" he says because he has to get it out of his system at some point anyway.

"Yeah, you did," Tim ducks his head. "Thanks, Tony," Probie taps Tony's hand back and lifts his eyes.

"That's what Senior Agents are for," Tony keeps the back of his hand in contact with Tim's.

"Nice to know you're good for something," Tim smirks.

Tony nods sarcastically and rolls his eyes, saving that headsmack for later when Probie least expects it.

They get back to the Porsche when they've thrown away the remnants of their meal. Tim's never actually said he doesn't like food or drinks in his car, but Tony knows he only brings them inside it when he's doing a coffee run or a meal run for the team. And so Tony very deliberately and with great self-sacrifice, takes one last long sip of his coffee and tosses the rest. Tim bites his lip to try to hide his smile at the ostentatiousness of the action, but he doesn't quite pull off a sober look.

It's only a quick drive to the condo from there. Annie Wilkes meets them out front. In the back of his mind, Tony supposes he should stop calling her that, else he's going to slip up and say it to her face.

Annie—er, crap, what the hell is her real name?—takes them upstairs to the condo right away. "Blah, blah, lovely foyer. Blah, blah, new tile in the bathroom. Blah, blah, fireplace. And of course, the gourmet kitchen's been completely refinished with granite countertops, an island, and all new appliances within the last year." 'Annie' tells them.

"Hmm," Tony considers, then separates from Tim, who's looking back and forth between the study and the smallest bedroom, to go check out the kitchen. The appliances are pretty sweet—all stainless steel. The stove, which is on the island, has six burners. There's both a bar sink (also on the island) as well as a large, double tub sink on the outside wall. There's enough space between the island and the outside counters to be able to move around while you cook, but not so much that the distance would get irritating. Tony nods. This could do just fine.

Tony scans the rest of the condo. The living room's got a lot of natural light, but the windows would be easy enough to cover up when you wanted enough darkness to watch a movie. There's no yard, of course, but there is a sizable balcony that could easily handle a small group of people—like the team—as well as have enough room left over for the grill and some patio furniture. The bedrooms are all of sufficient size. The smallest is right beside the balcony, so Tim could catch some air when he wanted to take a break from his writing. The study would actually make a much nicer home gym, Tony judges, what with the way its windows face east.

When Tony moves on into the master bedroom, he finds Tim in the connected bathroom ignoring the tub in favor of drooling over the huge shower stall. Tony squints in brief consideration at his partner's pose before proudly declaring,

"I want this one."

Tim raises his eyebrow at the demanding tone, but instead of challenging Tony's lack of actual choice in which home Tim buys, Probie says, "Thought you wanted a yard."

"Have you seen this balcony?" Tony points behind him rather emphatically. "We could easily have a team party out there, and we wouldn't even have to mow the lawn! Besides," he lifts his chin. "I like the kitchen."

"Since when do you cook?" Tim raises his brows incredulously.

"Since always," Tony shakes his head back at him. "It's just never any fun to prepare a meal for one person, and most of the women I've been out with were much too picky eaters."

"Perhaps I should leave the two of you alone for a minute to discuss the matter," 'Annie' smiles pleasantly and heads for the living room. Tim blinks after her in surprise, and it's only when a subtle blush hits Tim's ears that Tony realizes that their realtor thinks they're a couple. He licks his lips. It doesn't bother him as much as he would have thought.

Tim clears his throat and looks back longingly at the shower again—and seriously, Probie must have some intense shower sex scenarios running through his mind. Tim tilts his head to the side, still looking away from Tony when he says, "Jena says the owner got a job overseas and is looking to close the deal as soon as possible. It doesn't hurt that I'm willing to put half the money down, either, though."

Tony twists his chin to the right in confusion, "Jena?"

Tim turns, a grin trying to steal its way onto his lips, "Annie Wilkes?" he reminds Tony.

"Oh," Tony straightens his head. "I knew that."

Tim just smirks.

"Well, what do you think?" Tony probes. "Besides the obvious shower fantasies, that is."

Tim ducks his chin, flush spreading up from his neck this time, "Well," he loses his battle with the growing grin. "The location works even better than I thought it would." Tim tilts his head consideringly, "I probably don't even have to drive anywhere if I don't want to. Plus, it's a big bonus that it's in a certified green building since that will make maintenance and utilities easier. I like how big the living room is," he continues, index fingers drawing a circle in the air to emphasize his point, "and how the bedrooms are down the hall from the common areas of the house. I also like that the guest bathroom is in between the master bedroom and the guest bedrooms."

Tony grins hugely. "You do like to get noisy, don't you?" he blurts out, then shuts his mouth and blinks, not even believing he just said that.

Tim walks towards him, leather jacket bouncing with his strut. Probie doesn't stop until he's right in front of him. "You're one to talk," Tim points out with a single raised eyebrow.

Heat suffuses Tony's face at the observation, and the redness on his cheeks just gives rise to a giant grin across Tim's lips. _Damnit!_ Tony thinks. _DiNozzos never blush!_ Except apparently when they do.

Still, to his credit, Tim doesn't say a word about it. Tony graciously decides not to use the headslap he's owed in return for the favor.

"You really like it that much?" Tim inquires, indulgent look on his face.

Tony shrugs, wanting to scream, _Yes!_ But instead he forces himself to say, "I'm not the one who's going to live here."

"Yeah, but you'll be over here a lot, right?" Tim spits out and then immediately backpedals. "I don't mean that I expect you to, to…I mean there's an extra bedroom, of course, and I like the smallest bedroom best for my writing room, but I could always put a daybed in the study for Sarah."

And right after Tony's mind stretches with satisfaction at knowing McAuthor's writing preferences, he registers the rest of Tim's words, finds himself holding his breath in surprise that Tim's mind went immediately to overnight visits.

Tony licks his lips, "Yeah," he confesses, easing his breath out slowly, "I like it that much."

Tim nods, a quick smile flashing across his face, "Me, too." He points both thumbs towards the living room. "I'm going to go get some more information about the dues and stuff, but if the information I already found holds up, then I think I might go ahead and put an offer on it."

Tony nods as Tim goes, leaving him in the master bedroom—which has a lot more closet space than Tony originally realized—alone to look around and think.


	14. Chapter 14 NSFW

**Please note: This Chapter NSFW!**

****Thank you so kindly to Precious Pup and to Mistress Desdemona for your generous betas. You both always help me to see the story from angles I hadn't considered, and I value that tremendously. Also, gotta give one more shout out to Precious for her cheerleading. Thanks for keeping me going!

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><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

Tony's body feels like it's been thrumming all day, waiting for the night to come. Tim'd dropped him off at home in the mid-afternoon, just after they had shared a late lunch. Tony couldn't focus on any one task between then and ten-thirty pm when he finally let himself start getting ready for the club he was taking Tim to tonight.

Tony's already raring to go out the door by the time Tim buzzes the bell shortly before midnight. Tim drops his car keys onto the coffee table—they have to take Tony's Mustang since the Porsche is only a two-seater. The two of them hustle downstairs, unloading their clips and securing their weapons in the lock box of Tony's trunk, so they can be ready to go in a hurry just in case they get a call from work while at the club.

No alcohol tonight. Tony bites at his lip as he thinks that over. Tim had really seemed to need a push to let himself relax on their previous Saturdays, and Tony doesn't know if Tim'll be able to let loose without that incentive or excuse or whatever Tim needs the booze to be for him.

To Tony's surprise, Tim goes right for the bar anyway the moment they get into the club. He watches Tim order them a couple cokes—diet for Tim, of course. He hands Tony his and then leans back on the wooden bar to slowly sip and watch the crowd. Meanwhile, Tony's eyes are just on Tim. It isn't until Tim blinks self-consciously that Tony fixes his gaze elsewhere. He leans back right next to Tim, pretending to look out into the crowd, but not quite seeing it yet.

He leans into Tim, "See anything you like?" he asks.

Tim shrugs and scrunches his face, squinting one eye with the motion, uncertainty rampant throughout his pose. Tony takes one more quick sip, discards his drink, then grabs onto Probie's hand—hell it worked last week—and pulls him out onto the crowded floor. Tim glances around when they get out there, maybe trying to guess who Tony'd picked, but then Tony puts a hand on Tim's shoulder, before skimming it down to his hip. Tim quirks his head at the dance pose, but to Tony's relief, he doesn't shy away.

"To let them know we're a package deal," Tony leans in far enough that he doesn't have to look at Tim's face while he explains, but the thing is, the movement brings him close enough to Tim that he can hear Tim's breath catching, can feel the shiver (of what—surprise?) running up his body. And Tony realizes, as much as they've alluded to the way they share their Saturday nights now, neither one of them has ever quite put it so starkly, like it's a fait accompli.

Tony keeps careful watch on the room as he keeps a hold on Tim. He has to be on his toes if some asshole decides to take exception to how close he and Tim are dancing together. They get a few dirty looks, but no one actually moves over towards them.

A few women approach them, all of them flirty and curious. Tony watches Tim's reactions, but nobody really seems to catch Tim's eye right off the bat. Then a woman dancing by herself approaches them. She smiles at their proximity, and Tim smiles at the pixie cut of her black hair.

Tony watches carefully, noting the woman's probably between him and Tim in age. She dresses, not conservatively, but with more care to her assets than most women ten years her junior. As they let her dance between the two of them, the shortness of her skirt and the length of her heels in particular seem to set Tim on fire—and how the hell had Tony _ever_ thought Tim was a breast man?

The inclusion of a woman into their group seems to ease the looks from the homophobic contingent, and while Tony doesn't exactly let himself relax at that observation, he does feel his body thrum a little more wildly to the beat.

"I'm Jeannie," she tells them after they introduce themselves, and Tim smiles widely when Jeannie's lips brush lightly against his ear.

They press in more closely against her. Tony likes the way she starts to pant when they grind against her from both sides. It makes him wonder how far she might want to take the sensation of being surrounded.

He kisses her throat, and Tim starts sucking his way down from her ear. Tony moves his grip towards her ass and crosses Tim's hands as they travel down to rub against the inside of her thighs. The backs of Tim's fingers brush against the front of Tony's thighs as Tim teases Jeannie, nearly making Tony gasp at the proximity to his cock. Tony finally wraps his palms around Jeannie's ass, feeling Tim grind into her from behind. And all of a sudden, Tony's achingly hard.

"Tell me what you like," Tony whispers urgently to Jeannie, as the possibilities of this moment stretch out in front of them.

"I like being in the middle," Jeannie responds, without frills, without teasing.

"A backdoor kind of girl?" he asks, his mouth dry, his hands clenching.

She gives him a sultry smile at the intensity of his reaction against her body, "Yeah," she tells him and bites down gently on his earlobe.

Tony doesn't waste any time at that invitation. He grabs Tim's whole head in his palm, pulls Tim's ear right next to his mouth. "I want this girl," he tells Tim desperately, already thinking about bending her over and spreading her wide open.

Tim nods back, the movement shaking Tony's palm where it's wrapped around him.

He watches Tim lean into her to tickle her ear with his words, "Come play with us," Tim tells her, just barely loud enough for Tony to hear.

And God, how Tony's hips respond to those words. Jeannie grins wildly, and they lead her out to their vehicle. She won't get into the car with them until she texts a friend with their names and Tony's license plate number as well as the hotel they're planning on going to.

While she's typing, Tony pulls Tim aside. "She wants us at the same time," he gets right to the point.

"At the same," Tim clears his throat. "L-like a front and back deal?" and Probie stutters, and when Tony nods, Tim starts panting hard immediately. He yanks on the lapels of Tony's shirt, pulling him close, the sleeves of Tim's leather jacket brushing roughly against Tony's shirt. "Tony, I want—I mean I really want—Well, that is if she doesn't have a preference, I really want to fuck her ass."

And Tony's completely speechless at the baldness of the phrase coming from Tim's mouth. His hips surge towards Tim's, and he flushes when their dicks rub against each other, but he only feels the heat between them. He's too far gone to feel even the most remote sense of embarrassment.

"Yeah," Tony whispers back, even though he'd been desperate for the same position only a moment before.

And then Tim brushes his lips against Tony's in appreciation. Tony's eyes flutter shut, and he feels his brows raise as he kisses Tim back, as he mindlessly leans right into his partner. Jeannie walks over to them just as they break away from each other.

While Tony's licking his lips, almost still feeling the press of Probie's mouth against his, Tim squeezes into the backseat so Jeannie can have the front because _of course he does_. Probie flirts with her neck and whispers between kisses along her jawline of what the three of them will do together when they get into the room. Tony's hands clench and unclench around the steering wheel almost spastically as he listens to snatches of Tim's promises of _our hands all over your body…fucking you onto his dick…mouths marking your skin…both of us inside you._

The sounds of their teasing makes his hands feel so empty even around their concentrated grip. The feeling persists even after Jeannie sidles up next to him and tempts him with her fingers along his thigh, even after he tickles his own fingers up her leg, under her knee, under her skirt to just barely skitter beneath the edge of the fabric.

The entire trip is that same kind of torture for Tony as they make their way to the same hotel as last week and make good use of the valet parking. Tony flips out his credit card at the front desk since, despite their audience in the lobby, Tim can't get his hands away from Jeannie's ass long enough to find his wallet with both hands.

Jeannie eats it up, rubbing up against Tim and driving Tony crazy with how much he wants to fucking finish this checking in bullshit and join in.

Tony all but snatches the keycard from the receptionist and corrals Tim and Jeannie towards the elevator. His hands move all over both of them, and he finally sheds that emptiness as he pushes them inside and grabs hold of them both—one in each hand. He presses the button for their floor, and he grinds against them, takes turns kissing them both as they take turns kissing each other.

Tony shoves Tim's jacket off his shoulders as soon as the hotel room door is secure. He starts helping Tim get undressed, feeling Jeannie's hands on him as she takes off Tony's own clothes, feeling Tim go back and forth between them to help them shed their clothing.

They tumble on the bed, still trying to get the rest of their clothes off. Tim grabs the condoms and takes the lube Jeannie had in her purse, then he crawls up behind her and starts stretching her ass right away. Tony climbs on her other side, throws one of her legs over both of his to give Probie a better angle, and then Tony sucks on her tits, his eyes open and watching Tim's face as the younger man works his fingers inside Jeannie.

Tim's hand's a little too slick by the time he remembers the condom, so Tony tears open the package and unpeels the rubber onto Tim's dick, the hard length surging in his hand as he does. It feels almost the same as when Tony touches his own dick, but the grip makes him shudder immediately and in a completely different way.

Tim enters Jeannie first, and Tony gives her a moment to adjust to Tim's girth as he puts his own condom on. He waits until she nods before he slips inside her himself. And fuck how she moans once they're both inside. And Tim moans and groans and jerks and every time he fucks into Jeannie, Tony can feel it.

And it's so fucking good, and Jeannie's lips and hands move all over him, and God, Probie's hands move all over him, too. And Tony loves the way Tim's chest feels beneath his fingers, loves the way Probie's ass is a sweet handful, loves how he and Tim just manage to reach over Jeannie enough to be able to kiss each other.

And Tony doesn't even try to hold back, and he seriously doesn't need to. Jeannie's so hot for it she comes twice while they're both inside her, and Tim surges into her right after the second time. And the way it all pushes against Tony is fucking awesome and then he's coming, too.

And then all Tony can hear is his heartbeat. All he can see of the room is surrounded by a fading, graying white, and Tony honestly doesn't know if he blacks out or not, but Tim is completely out of it behind Jeannie.

Tony takes another moment to calm his breathing. He pulls out of Jeannie, careful, as always with the condom. He looks around to her other side, and when Tim still doesn't move, Tony does the same thing for him, too, feeling the intimacy and trust in the act all the way through to his bones.

Then Tony leans back against the pillow and promptly falls asleep.


	15. Chapter 15 NSFW

***NOTE: This chapter NSFW!**

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><p><em>Author's Note: <em>Posted with thanks to Precious Pup and Mistress Desdemona for the terrific betas!

Thanks also to all of you who have been following this story and especially to those who have reviewed. I am unable to respond to you at this time, and I sincerely apologize for that. I have been ill lately and not able to keep up with much of anything online. To that end, I must offer another apology as _McWhyNot_ is now on temporary hiatus until I recover and get my real life back in a bit of order.

I hope you all enjoy this chapter, as I have a feeling it is one that most of you have been anticipating.

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><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

The sound of an alarm towards the end of the bed wakes Tim up. He looks around the dark room in confusion, not recognizing the sound beyond the fact that it's calling for him to wake up. A body rouses beside him, and he sees that it's Jeannie trying to extricate herself from between him and Tony.

"Hey," Tim lays a heavy hand on her stomach, that touch alone spiking sensation throughout his whole body, which is both decidedly satisfied and achingly horny.

Jeannie turns over and kisses Tim hard just as Tony rolls over to face them, a sleepily curious look washing over his face as he, too, tries to place the blaring of the foreign alarm.

"I wish I could stay longer," Jeannie tells them as she moves down the bed. "But my babysitter's got to be at work at seven o'clock."

"Seven o'clock?" Tony asks, and it's obvious by the rasp of his voice that he's not quite awake yet.

"That's my six o'clock warning," Jeannie points down to her purse where it's still somehow clinging to the edge of the bed.

"Hmm," Tony grumbles, waking up a little more. Tim considers his partner's unusual grogginess and a quiet understanding of it clicks into place—Tony's only ever that out of it in the morning if he figured he'd be able to sleep later when he went to bed the night before. It's odd, like Tony can mitigate his sleeping habits based on his expectations of how long he'll be allowed to sleep. It implies a much greater awareness of environment than Tim's ever fairly given him credit for. There's also something sad about it, though, that makes Tim wonder how often Tony truly lets himself relax, even in the comfort of his own bed.

Tim stands up, still distracted by his thoughts of Tony, as he helps Jeannie separate her clothes from theirs. It takes them almost five minutes to find her left shoe before they discover it had somehow been thrown into the bathroom. Tony joins them in their search after a few minutes, his heavy cock bouncing in the frenzied air between them the moment he tosses the covers from his body.

Once she's dressed, Jeannie hugs them at the door, glancing down with a rueful grin to their mutual interest jutting hot and hard from between their legs. The three of them seem to move even more closely together as he and Tony each kiss her goodbye. Jeannie's soft touches and the hot length of Tony's naked body teasing along Tim's skin effectively refocus Tim's attention to this moment in front of him. Their lips linger as Jeannie whispers her thanks, and then he and Tony whisper the thought, their hands against her body, and the contact seems to thrum like an electric current through the three of them.

Jeannie finally makes it out of the room, and Tim stares at the door he closed behind her, unbelievably hard. He hears Tony's heavy breath beside him. The sound makes Tim realize he's almost panting himself.

Tim rubs at his face and when he looks down towards his toes, he can't help but to notice anew Tony's hard dick reaching out between them. Tim bites his lip and clears his throat—twice—finally pulls his gaze back up to somewhere near Tony's face, but he's breathing even harder than he was a second before.

"I'm gonna," Tim points his thumb towards the shower, needing to jerk off so badly he can feel the tension in his toes.

He starts to walk by Tony, but Tony stops him abruptly with a hand, wide open and demanding, pushing against Tim's chest. Tim looks up at him in puzzlement, and that's when Tony runs his fingers up Tim's neck, right into his hair, and yanks him in for a hot, hard kiss.

Tim opens his mouth right away, too hot for it to even consider refusing. He grabs Tony's hips and pulls his partner right against him. Tim moves against Tony, grinds against him, their tongues playing tag while Tim pushes Tony back towards the bed.

They bounce against the sheets together. They scoot to the middle of the bed, lips together, cocks rubbing against each other as much as possible. Tony skims up Tim's body with his fingertips, and Tony must have been paying attention these past few weeks because then he pushes down hard as he runs those short, rough nails down Tim's back, making him gasp, and Tim's been paying attention, too, because he works his teeth down towards the tendons of Tony's neck and bites because it's always made Tony growl every time one of those women did it to him, and it makes Tony growl now, the desperate noise making Tim rub harder against his partner.

Tony comes with a moan, his body surging up to meet Tim's, and Tim moves rougher against Tony, liking the slick feel of Tony's come between them. Tony pulls Tim against him with both hands on Tim's ass, and Tim shoots his wad right there. He jerks against Tony another moment, then relaxes right onto Tony's body, enjoying the feel of his partner's tight, hard muscles and the tickling crinkle of Tony's body hair on his skin, most of all liking the mixture of scents wafting up between them—hot sex and Tony and their come mixed together and the softness of something between them that has always made Tim feel welcome.

Tim offers gentle kisses to the teeth marks at Tony's neck while Tony softly, almost sweetly, runs his hands up and down Tim's back.

"Probie," Tony whispers beneath him.

And the word is so startling in this context, with the feel of Tony's body lax and lush beneath him. Tim's eyes shoot open, his body stiffening. He rolls away, sitting up as he does, and Tony lets him go. Tim just blinks a moment, unseeing, his breath coming hard. He clears his throat. "I should get a shower," Tim finishes his thought from earlier.

He swallows hard, not sure if he can face Tony, but not wanting to _not_ be able to face him. He settles for patting the other man's hand where it rests beside his. Tony grabs and squeezes Tim's fingers for just a moment, and though Tim can hear Tony holding his breath, his partner doesn't say a word. Tim moves his legs to his side of the bed and walks to the shower without looking back.

Under the hot spray of water, Tim considers throwing on his clothes and going home as soon as he steps out of the bathroom, but the idea of leaving Tony here alone, maybe even thinking that something was wrong between them, shakes Tim so badly he dismisses the thought right away.

It feels decidedly odd, moving back into the bedroom. Tim picks up his boxer-briefs from the floor, slides them up his legs, and hesitates, his eyes on the bed. Tony's eyes are closed, but the tension in his body tells Tim at a glance that he's not asleep. Tim runs a hand through his still drying hair, and crawls up the sheets maybe a couple feet away from Tony on the king-sized bed.

Tim wants to touch him somehow, a part of him needing that grounding, another part feeling that maybe even a quick graze of his skin to Tony's could help make this right.

Tim bites his lip, steels his back, and gives in to the urge. "Shower's free," Tim whispers, his fingers barely skittering against Tony's shoulder before he pulls his arm back in. Then, Tim sets his head on the pillow, closing his eyes before Tony can open his.

A few moments later, the bed dips as Tony shuffles out from under the covers. The shower starts a minute afterward. Tony spends a while in there, giving Tim way too much time to think. Perversely, when the water stops again, Tim can't say as he's actually completed a full thought in that entire time. Tim doesn't even realize his eyes are open until Tony pops out from behind the bathroom door—his body clad only in one of the hotel's fluffy cream-colored towels.

Tony looks over at him right away, his gaze twittering away on finding Tim's eyes open.

Tony greets him anew after a prolonged silence, "Hey," he says, and bends down to carefully pick up their clothes. "Do you," Tony ducks his head while he straightens out a pair of pants—Tim can't even tell whose they are from this angle, and he doubts Tony's paying attention to that either. "Do you maybe want to go out to breakfast?" Tony asks, his eyes flickering Tim's way but not quite meeting his. "My treat."

Tim sits up and shakes his head. Tony's face falls right away, apparently having caught the motion in his periphery vision. "I-I think it's my turn to pay," Tim stutters, just realizing Tony thinks he's rejecting the invitation. "I didn't mean for you to shell out for the hotel again last night," he says, unthinkingly, and Tim can feel the blush creep up his chest once the words catch up to him.

Tony shrugs with studied nonchalance, a tiny bit of tension rolling out of his shoulders with the motion. "I didn't mind." Tony tosses the slacks across the back of the desk chair beside him. His hand follows, setting a hard grip on the wooden backrest. "Besides, you can always catch next week, right?" he jerks his chin towards Tim's direction, but his eyes stay locked somewhere near the foot of the bed.

"Yeah," Tim breathes a little easier. "I'll get the tab next Saturday," he promises.

Tony nods, his eyes finally flying up to find Tim's. Tim smiles at his partner, and after a long moment, Tony smiles back.

"So," Tony rubs his hands together like he tends to when food is on his mind. The motion's a little contrived, but Tim can see how hard he's making an effort to try to normalize the conversation, "Porquois Pas, Probie?" Tony suggests.

"Why not?" And when Tim out and out grins at his dual meaning, Tony grins right back.

They make it to the restaurant, the air between them charged but not exactly uncomfortable. Tony blathers on randomly here and there, and Tim argues with his observations just because. There's a light jazz rhythm playing in the background as they find their table. The band won't get there until after nine-thirty, but the subtle tones of New Orleans ease out through the speakers in the meantime.

It's not until the café au lait and beignets are on the table that Tony blurts out of nowhere, "You know, I've been thinking of trying out Lux again next week," his fingers twitch along the edge of the tablecloth.

Tim furrows his brow. "Which club was that?" he asks.

Tony rolls his head forward and raises his eyes up to Tim's, his head still angled downward. "Where we met Dana," he reminds him. "Who knows," Tony shrugs not-quite casually, "maybe we'll run into her again."

Tim licks his lips, belatedly nods, remembering how hot Dana got when she watched him and Tony kissing. He considers his and Tony's heated exchange this morning and briefly wonders if that's what's spurred Tony's renewed interest in the woman, but then he recalls how steamy the encounter with Dana was even before he'd kissed Tony.

"Yeah," and Tim's eyes flicker down to Tony's lips involuntarily. "That sounds good."

Tony smiles softly and nods in response. "Good," Tony echoes, and takes a sip of his orange juice.

The mood abruptly changes at that. The calm that comes over Tony at Tim's acceptance quickly seeps Tim's way as if through osmosis. The charge in the air between them doesn't exactly fade, but it drifts to the background as they tell each other well-worn jokes and answer with familiar tones of laughter as the brisk, new morning slowly yields way to a comfortably sunny afternoon.


	16. Chapter 16

Posted with much gratitude to Precious Pup who caught a grievous character error. Thank you, my friend!

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><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

On Monday morning, Tony's still fighting with the phantom sensation of Tim's body lying on top of his. He figures it's just the novelty of the sensation—hairy thighs instead of smooth skin, hard muscle instead of the give of a woman's soft body as it invites you in. Still, Probie's body seemed pretty inviting until Tim glanced up at him afterward with that look of utter disbelief and sprang for the bathroom. And Tony couldn't even blame him for the reaction—hell, he could hardly believe the whole thing himself!

And the worst part is, the whole situation could have turned into a cluster _fast_, because, the truth is, no matter how horny they were at the time, Tony fucked up so hard when he kissed Tim after Jeannie left. He seriously lucked out in a major way with how Tim was able to keep the whole thing in its proper perspective at breakfast. Not that Tony really understood what that perspective was himself, he's just _really_ glad Tim got it.

So from the moment Tony rolls out of bed Monday, he's striving to hit normal at every checkpoint. It's Tim's turn to get coffee, so Tony texts Probie with his regular demand of what sort of pastry he wants today, adding the usual snarky comment about Tim's sudden preference of power bars over doughnuts.

Tony admits he does pump up the volume on the stereo as he drives in to work, but it's not because he's trying to distract himself. It's just that the DJs are playing some of his favorite songs, well, except for that Pat Benatar tune he hates and the _Boys of Summer_ remake that always makes him cringe.

Tony glides straight into a strut the second he shuts his car door, humming the _Saturday Night Fever_ soundtrack as he walks. He practically dances into MCRT as the BeeGees in his head hit those long high notes.

Gibbs barely glances up at him, but Ziva immediately raises her brows as a hint of amusement codes in the crinkles of her eyes.

"I recognize that tune," her lips quiver with the need to smile, and Tony can't help feeling his own mouth respond accordingly at seeing the humor seeping across her features.

"Closet disco fan, Ziva?" he invites her into conversation. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," he shakes his head gravely in playful contrast to his words. "I bet you lit up retro night at all the techno clubs in Tel Aviv." He squints into the distance as if spying back in time. "In fact, I can see it now—your hair bouncing with the beat as you did the hustle under the glimmering shine of the disco ball. Tell the truth, Ziva, did you do a little dance, make a little love," Tony ducks his chin and raises his brows suggestively, "get down tonight?"

"Ah, yes, Tony. You _do_ know me." She lifts her chin towards him in an open sort of gesturing. "I love _Dancing Queen_, and you illustrate it so perfectly." She wiggles her shoulders as even they seem to flutter with amusement.

Tony feels his grin leave his eyes at the slight gay allusion even as he knows Ziva's about as likely to know what a queen is as Gibbs is liable to buy himself a pair of Ermenegildo Zegnas tomorrow. Irrationally, it makes him wonder if his actions from the weekend are painted all over his face for the world to see—and man if _Ziva_ can see on his skin how desperate he was to touch McGee yesterday, then what the hell does _Gibbs _see? And if they can see _now_ how eager Tony was to touch Tim the day before, then what did Tim see as Tony was _actually_ reaching for him?

Tim had seemed okay with everything after they'd parted that afternoon, but what if he'd reconsidered the whole thing after he'd thought on it a while? Tim is nothing if not a thinker. What if Tony's actions yesterday made Tim rethink this whole thing between them? What if he wanted to stop?

Tony moves behind his desk to stow his gear, distracted by the reel in his head as he tries to remember exactly what Tim said in the hotel room. Was it a mistake that Tony relaxed into their morning after their post-showers conversation? Should he have been more insistent about the _not-gay, no-seriously-NOT-gay_ thing? Tony completely stills in his tracks on the way to moving for his gun drawer as he realizes he can't even remember telling McGee he wasn't gay _at all_—not even once.

He licks his lips and slowly eases his weapon into its drawer.

"Problem, Tony?" Ziva asks across the way, and her tone has just enough of a tease in it to send a prickle of irritation up Tony's spine and get him moving again.

He glances up to see a playful smirk painted across her features. Tony straightens out his shoulders and hones his total focus to her. "Just enjoying the morning, Zee-vah," he stretches out her name, which is, by far, the easiest way to provoke her.

She narrows her eyes at him, but then tilts her chin to the right and glances at him sideways, smile still flirting with her lips. "I have no wish to hit someone who is on the ground, so I will make no comment on your apparently," she pauses, giving all the more emphasis to her next word, "frustrating weekend."

He furrows his eyebrows and quickly turns in towards his chair, trying not to trip at how closely that burns. "Ziva, Ziva, Ziva," he manages a grin when he glances back at her. "It's 'kick someone when they're down," he corrects. "Not that you need to worry about that with me today," he winks at her extravagantly.

She rolls her eyes and stands, walks over to him with steps measured by her growing annoyance—she hates it when he winks. "Tony, I do not understand why you persist in perpetuating this charade. It is not as though anyone believes you when you walk in here _every single Monday morning_ and chatter on and on about your weekend exploits."

"Why, Ziva," he moves a step closer to her, "is that jealousy I hear in your tone?"

"No, Tony," she meets him step for step, and a few years ago, her casual invasion of his space probably would have gotten him feeling prickly for an entirely different reason than it does now. "It is called _irritation_. Perhaps you should do us all a boon and look it up."

He tilts his head and glances down her body, pretending an attraction he doesn't feel anymore. "Now where would the fun in that be?"

She squints at him, not at all falling for it, and he realizes suddenly and with what feels like relief that she no longer feels a spark between them either. "What is _wrong _with you today?" Ziva raises her hands in a motion not dissimilar to how one might strangle another. Tony quickly runs behind the relative safety of his desk.

"Just feeling the good life, Zee-vah," he sits and leans back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he strives to hang onto his casual vibe with both hands.

Ziva's eyes immediately drop to the bit of skin where his neck meets his chest to the little piece of himself that he's just inadvertently revealed with his stretch. And he wants to drop his arms, hide what she's looking at from the sarcasm in her gaze. She moves closer right away, checking out the mark Tim left on his skin.

"Ahh," she nods, a mean bit of glee written across her cheeks—not that Tony can blame her for feeling it at this point, finally recognizing the level of asshole he's already achieved this morning. "I see you did not have such a frustrating weekend after all," she taps two fingers against his neck, right on the hickey Tony just discovered that morning. "And yet you are still in a bad mood," she notes. "What happened, Tony?" Ziva prods with faux sympathy. "Did she ask for a second date?" She smirks. "Or perhaps it is the fact that she did not?" she tilts her head, lifts her brows.

Tony growls at her, and Ziva removes her fingers in short order. She saunters back to her desk, evil grin still intact. Tony watches her go, but when he would have redirected his attention back to his workstation to log into his computer, he feels Gibbs' eyes right on him, feels Boss' concern and attention from across the room. Tony blinks, but he doesn't dare return Boss' look. Gibbs has always been able to look right through him—right _to_ him—to what really mattered, and Tony can't afford for Boss to do that today.

Tim walks in a few minutes later. "Good morning," he greets everyone cheerily.

The tension in Tony's chest immediately eases at Tim's good mood and the casualness to his stride. The fear Tony's been trying to ignore for the last twenty-four hours dials back a little bit. Tony swipes at his mouth in an attempt to hide a bit of his relief.

"Hey, Tim," Tony greets him back, fairly sure the shaky relief swelling up inside him doesn't make it into his tone.

Tim passes out their morning coffee, then sets a pastry bag on Tony's desk with a flourish, "Apple Turnover," he announces.

"Hey!" Tony feels the space between his eyes crinkle in indignation. "I told you glazed doughnut with chocolate icing!"

"Oops!" Tim tilts his head to the side in fake apology.

Tony breaks open the bag right away, and there's his requested doughnut. No offensive fruity bits in sight. He rolls his eyes at his Probie, who's already passed Ziva her muffin and is handing Gibbs a pastry. Gibbs never requests so much as a sweet roll. In fact, when he oh-so-rarely indulges his sweet tooth, he only ever really opts for blueberry strudel (unless, that is, he's _really_ hungry). Tony has no idea offhand if Tim would have noted Boss' quirk, but Gibbs offers Tim a rough thank you and even a quick smile before even looking inside the bag, and Tony knows at once that Gibbs is going to eat whatever it is that Tim's picked up for him, blueberries or no.

Tony ducks his head and feels the beginnings of a grin across his lips. When he glances back up, he notes Tim's got one more bag left in his hand.

"No power bar?" Tony prods, feeling a tease bubble up in his throat.

"Nah," Tim shakes his head. "I felt like being bad today," he concludes, lifting a single brow high onto his forehead.

Tony knows his jaw's dropped, and he can feel a pleasant but completely and _utterly_ inappropriate twitch in his groin. Ziva laughs across the way, and at first Tony imagines she's laughing at what he knows _must_ be his all-too-obvious reaction to Tim's flirty words, but when he spies a look at her, Tony quickly realizes she's not even glancing his way at all. Instead, her pleased grin and sparkling eyes are all for Tim.

Tony has another brief moment of panic, jerking his head towards Gibbs when he wonders if Boss spotted his reaction, but Tim's still standing directly in Gibbs' line of sight, blocking any and all views to Tony's knee-jerk response. _Cock-jerk response?_ Tony ridiculously ponders a second later. _Oh, for fuck's sake_, he berates himself almost immediately.

When Tony anxiously turns his neck to peer back in Ziva's direction, he quickly realizes that her eyes have finally landed on him and, ooh, that little wrinkle of confusion between her brows _never_ means anything good for him. For crying out loud, Ziva can almost be as nosy and determined to get into people's business as Tony himself is. And while he might have otherwise thought he and Tim had been lucky Ziva hadn't "accidentally" tripped into their Saturdays over the past month, the truth is, Tony knows it actually has more to do with the fact that their little Israeli bulldog offers a lot more breathing room to Tim due to his whole privacy thing than she _ever_ would to Tony.

Unfortunately, that offhand comment from Tim seems to set the tone for Tony's day, so much so that two hours later, Tony wants to bang his head against the side of his desk in an effort to at least focus his misery. _Where the hell are all the criminals, lately?_ he wonders, practically ready to beg God for a callout just to get away from Ziva's confused glances, Gibbs' seemingly all-knowing eyes—and how Tony hopes that's not an entirely true statement right now—and most of all, Tony really needs to catch a break from Tim's newly found and slightly dirty sense of humor.

By the time eleven o'clock rolls around, Tony's so desperate to go on the lunch run he offers to pay for everyone. With irritation, he notes the team exchange concerned glances at his declaration.

"Sure, Tony," Tim begins slowly. "Thanks."

Tony gets everyone's orders and practically runs for the elevator. Tim jumps into the lift right after him. Tony purses his lips together at the invasion, irritated at himself for enjoying Probie's obvious concern.

Tim stares at him a moment while the elevator takes them down. When Tony drops his eyes, Tim reaches out and flips the emergency switch—something Tony's never remembered him doing before. Tim has always been too aware, too mindful of the rules to do such a thing before. Tony doesn't know if it speaks to the changes he's noticed in Tim of late or to his own state of mind that Tim should break with socially appropriate behavior now.

Tony puts his hands on his hips. Head low, he looks up at Tim from beneath his eyelashes, unable to stand his partner's gaze full on.

Tim bites his bottom lip—the one Tony had been sucking into his mouth with abandon just yesterday—and watches Tony for a moment.

"I thought we were okay," Tim begins softly.

"We are," Tony contradicts, not moving a muscle.

"Right," Tim nods and waves a hand toward the stiffness of Tony's form. "Obviously."

Tony blinks away. He ducks his head and confesses in a voice much too small to be his own. "Tim, I—" Tony winces and shifts his feet. "I fucked up. I'm sorry."

"No," Tim denies the confession before Tony even finishes speaking. "If you're talking about yesterday, then no. You didn't."

Tony shakes his head and looks away. "I never should have—" he can't bring himself to give words to his actions. It was one thing when there was a woman in between them, but even that was so incredibly borderline with the way they…Tony squints, his mind stuck on the sweet bite of Tim's mouth against his, the surprising strength of Tim's hands, the way his body arched up into Tony's touch. The way Tim _always_ seems to invite Tony to touch him. And fuck all if Tony doesn't want it just as much now as he did yesterday morning.

"It's okay," Tim speaks softly, his obvious belief in his words giving them strength that has nothing to do with volume. "It happened," Tim shrugs, leaning a little farther into Tony's space as he does. "Why do we have to make it into a big deal when it's just between us? If we both say something's okay with us, then it is," he insists.

"So it's just that easy?" Tony tucks his chin into his neck and jerks his head, his body language belying just how hard he wants to believe Tim's words, his mind racing as he wonders if it might be okay with Tim again sometime.

"Why not?" Tim raises both palms in frustration. "You're my best friend, Tony," Tim takes a step closer. "Tell me why it can't be that easy?"

"You were really upset at the time," Tony treads softly, even as he feels a bit of hope trickle into him at the thought that this problem might have a simple answer.

"I was surprised, Tony," Tim counters. "It was kind of new to me."

"Well, Tim, it's pretty fucking new to me, too," Tony throws right back to him, the words just whipping out of his mouth in his nervousness even though he'd never planned on even hinting to Tim that this whole thing between them started with a misunderstanding.

"I thought you…" Tim trails off, chin tilting far to the right.

"No," Tony corrects him, turning his head to the side on a quick twitch.

Tim's whole face crinkles in confusion. "But you said—"

"No," Tony cuts him off, keeping it brisk so he doesn't risk saying anything more damning. "I didn't."

"So you," Tim stops and restarts at a pained whisper. "So this whole time you didn't even want—"

"No!" Tony comes back quickly, trying to get rid of the defeat in his partner's tone. "I did. I just—" _didn't know it,_ Tony purses his lips, not certain if it's better or worse to keep that thought behind his teeth. "I have no idea what I'm doing!" he finally shakes his hands in frustration.

Tim shrugs a little self-consciously, half smile tilting his lips. "Me neither." He shakes his head. "What's so wrong with that?"

"You're my best friend, too, Tim," that small voice comes out of Tony's mouth one more time. "I can't afford to fuck this up."

"You won't. _We_ won't," Tim denies the possibility as he steps closer, only halting when he's inches away from Tony. "I swear it," Tim concludes fervently.

Tony looks right at Tim, at his determination set in the way his body leans towards Tony and sealed in every one of Tim's features, and that unsettled part of him calms considerably to see that stubborn set to Tim's features. The only person more obstinate than Tim when he gets an idea into his head is Gibbs, and even then, if it came between the two of them, Tony's not sure who he'd put his money on for shear pigheadedness. Tony nods and taps two fingers to Tim's upper arm, wanting to extend the contact between them, but settling for the light touch.

"Okay," Tony finally agrees.

Tim checks Tony's gaze for doubts for another moment. When he seems satisfied with what he finds, he twists back around towards the elevator controls and flips the emergency switch off. Tim comes with him on the lunch run afterwards, helping him carry their sandwiches back from the nearby deli.

Upon their return, Gibbs gives Tim a hard glare, and Tony realizes at once that Tim left without a word to where he was going, let alone to say he was leaving the Yard—big no-no in Gibbsland. Tony cringes, but Tim just takes the glare and helps Tony pass out the food. Surprisingly, Boss doesn't push the issue any further than that, and Tony abruptly realizes that Boss is still treading lightly around McGee. Tony's not sure yet if that should please or concern him considering their history. Tony shelves the issue, shoves it to the back of his mind to focus on this moment with his team because everybody's happy and healthy and loose in a good way, and he's never sure how long the good times might last.

When Tony rolls to the edge of his desk with his sandwich, rolls closer to Tim, they share a soft smile. And Tony notes with relief right afterward, as he glances about the cubicle, that neither Boss nor Ziva pay any particular mind to the mutual gesture.

Tony smirks when Tim offers him a bite of his salad. "You should have just gotten the potato chips like you wanted instead of trying to mooch mine," he tells Tim in lofty tones.

Tim lifts his chin and glances between his meal and Tony's. "I was trying to be nice. Your cholesterol has to be through the roof."

Tony squints back playfully, "You leave him out of this."

Tim presses his lips together hard, trying not to allow his grin to let loose. He ducks his head, losing the battle. When he glances Tony's way, Tony returns that smile, feeling grateful Tim aimed it at him.


	17. Chapter 17

My dear friend, Precious Pup, I am completely indebted to you for your fantastic insights. I value your opinion tremendously, and I am grateful for your counsel. Thank you for keeping my stories on track and for making sure my Ziva stays true to character.

Thanks, as well, to everyone out there who's reading this story. I'm sorry for cutting out on you for a while. I just wanted to let you know how very much I appreciated all of your kind thoughts and comments over the last few months. I haven't been able to keep up with responding to you, but I always read what you send to me, and it never fails to warm my heart to hear from you. Thank you.

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><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

"McGee!" Gibbs bellows as he hangs up the phone.

Tim looks up just in time to see Boss throwing a set of keys at his face. He somehow manages to catch the object midair, recognizing the keyfob to the Charger only as Boss instructs,

"Got a lead on the Treski case from last week. Metro's got a potential witness in their custody from the BOLO on the Mercedes. Fifth District," Gibbs yields the location as McGee reflexively grabs his gun and his bag.

Tim looks Tony's way, wondering if he can get Boss to let their Senior Agent loose after Tony's odd behavior throughout the morning. Tony'd calmed down considerably after lunch, had even started joking with them again, though his humor kept switching between incredibly tame and wildly outrageous with no obvious triggers setting him off either which way.

"Take Ziva," Boss adds, and when McGee twists his head to look back at Gibbs, the tilt of the older man's chin tells him that Tony's not going anywhere for the rest of the day if Boss can help it.

McGee meets Boss' eye and nods his understanding, realizing that it probably is a good idea to keep Tony out of the field when he's still regaining his balance.

Tim nearly sighs in his disappointment. He still doesn't know what to think about Tony's admission that he'd never done this sort of thing with another guy before. They'd apparently been talking at cross purposes since that first night in bed together with Dana. Or had they? Maybe Tim's reading too much into the situation. He does manage a sigh then because, yeah, he probably is dissecting Tony's actions unnecessarily. Tim's overanalyzing nature tends to kill off his relationships faster than anything else. Tim bites his lip and forcibly pushes the problem to the back of his mind because that's _not_ going to happen this time. Not with this thing he has with Tony.

A quick glance in Ziva's direction shows she already has her weapon secured at her hip and her pack across one shoulder. As she rounds her desk, she holds out her hand to him for the car keys, seemingly by reflex, but Tim thinks maybe the line of her body is a little stiffer than it usually is. Though McGee doesn't begrudge her the slightly assuming gesture—he almost always allows her to drive when it's the two of them alone, after all—Ziva's posture gives him pause. While it's not as though Tim forgot about his disagreement with Ziva last week nor the resulting heart-stopping drive to and from the crime scene, seeing her stiff form now simply makes it clear to him how much he wants to put their argument behind them.

But bridging such a distance between them is new ground for the two of them because he and Ziva rarely argue, and they almost never keep a disagreement going for longer than a day. For some inexplicable reason, though, instead of furrowing his brow at the problem, Tim grins and dangles the keys just out of Ziva's reach. "Ha!" Tim shakes his head at her and zooms right past her into the bullpen hallway. "No way, Jose!" he declares, a chuckle escaping his lips at the old tease he and Sarah used to throw back and forth as children.

"Who is Jose?" Ziva sputters where she's standing still, but then she runs to catch up with McGee so they can walk side by side the last five feet to the elevator. When he slants his eyes in her direction, he sees the beginnings of a grin teasing the corners of her mouth.

Tim glances back at Tony after he presses the call button. McGee keeps the smile across his mouth to try to somehow mitigate the uneasy purse he spies across his partner's lips. Tony's eyes pop up to meet Tim's just as the lift beeps its appearance. He doesn't quite manage a smile as Tim steps inside, but there's a certain amount of calm that comes across Tony's face before he's out of view.

Tim presses the button for the garage and looks over to their other partner. Ziva licks her lips nervously about three times in a half a minute time frame.

Tim finds himself squinting at her uneasiness. If Tony were here, he'd have a joke to either irk her or make her laugh—something so they could forget their disagreement and go back to being comfortable with one another.

"Sarah and I used to have poke wars," Tim blurts after another moment of silence stretches long and wide between them.

Ziva twists her body towards him immediately. "Poke wars?" she asks, offering far more of her attention to the offhand comment than she usually might. "_Poke_ as in the button on Facebook?" her head tilts and her eyes squint by a hair.

"No, no!" Tim shifts his feet to turn his body towards hers. "Way before social networking software. No electronics at all," he corrects with a wave of his hand. "Just, you know," he extends his index finger and lightly pushes it into the firm muscles of her belly, "poking," he concludes.

"Poking?" she questions, pushing her own index finger into his belly.

"Yeah," he nods, poking her back by reflex.

"How is _poking_," she emphasizes the word with another repetition of the act itself, "at all reminiscent of war?"

The elevator dings and the two of them walk into the parking structure. "A single poke does not a war, make," Tim tells her with a sage nod as they walk together towards the Charger, "but," he lifts his poking finger in emphasis, "repeatedly trading pokes on the other hand…" he leads off, getting in another nudge as he does.

"Ahh," Ziva nods, grin rapidly replacing the confusion splashed across her cheeks. "So you poke," again a jab of emphasis to Tim's belly, "each other back and forth and the frequency of it," she guesses with a lilt in her tone, "makes it a war-like activity?"

"Eh," he measures her wording, bouncing his head back and forth, "not just the frequency," he advises. "It's more like the overall competition of it."

He glances her way and spies the beginnings of her furrowed brow so he clarifies, "It was also about surprise, cleverness, force, and whether or not we got caught."

"Caught?" Ziva squints.

"By our parents," Tim clarifies.

"So your parents did not approve of poke wars?" Ziva questions, aligning her steps so she walks a little closer to him.

He shakes his head. After a second, he confesses, "There are eight years between me and Sarah. Mom and Dad didn't think it was very fair for me to poke her because I was so much bigger than she was."

Ziva briefly squeezes his hand as she says, "They were not very familiar with Sarah's personality, I think."

"No, they weren't," Tim licks his lips, mind going all the way back to the days when Dad was always shipboard, and Tim used to take Sarah out of the house—anywhere and everywhere—so Mom could stay home and _rest_. Tim didn't know for a long time that _resting_ meant something different in the McGee household than it did in his friends' homes. "Not so much back then, at least," Tim chuffs, the earlier memory replaced by how thoroughly Sarah came to assert herself in later years.

"You do not seem the type to have disobeyed your parents as a child," Ziva asks without asking, somehow immediately reminding Tim of his conversation with Gibbs that past Friday.

Tim bites his lip, feels his head drop. "I wasn't. I'm not," he clarifies as he acknowledges the fact that he'd still probably do just about anything his parents asked of him. Almost anything. He bites his lip harder.

"And yet you had poke wars anyway," Ziva points out softly, her tone almost musical as it practically sings her acceptance of him.

"It was too important for Sarah and me to stop doing it." Tim shrugs and turns his head to look his partner in the eye to explain, "It was how we let each other know we were sorry without having to say the words," he pokes Ziva once more, so very lightly, just to the right of her belly button.

Ziva looks downward to the finger that poked her. She takes a deep breath and sniffs before tilting her head back up, a smile slowly spanning her face and taking over. "Me, too," Ziva pokes him back just as softly on his left flank.

Tim grins back and pulls her into a one-armed hug, and Ziva responds with her own arm around him. They walk together that way for a moment before Tim uses his other hand to poke a quick finger into her side.

"Ah!" Ziva laughs, twisting her body away while still keeping an arm around Tim's waist. She immediately jabs him back, just a little more roughly.

They keep up the joined posture and the poking all the way to the car.


	18. Chapter 18

Posted with gratitude to everyone who has been waiting for this chapter. Thank you for keeping up with this story. My apologies for not keeping up with you. I'm seriously run down, and I've been running on fumes for months, but this story will be continuing as I am able to make updates. Thank you all.

:-)

Bren

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><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

Tim and Ziva don't get back to the Yard for another three long, desperate hours, and Gibbs' eye seems to be focused on Tony the _entire_ time. Normally, Tony's pretty sure he'd be basking under Boss' watchful gaze, but just now, he can't keep his mind away from Tim and the way Tony'd touched him yesterday and the fear that, despite his partner's assurances, Tony really _had_ gone too far.

It's not that Tony imagines his partner might lie to him—Tim's just not capable of insincerity. It's just that Tony absolutely cannot figure a scenario where reaching for Tim like he did _wasn't_ completely inappropriate to their relationship.

When Tony's partners finally step off the elevator and back onto their floor again, he spies them trading grins and pokes. Ziva catches Tim with a couple of jabs to his flank, which Tim readily returns, but then Ziva gets him once, hard, right in the belly, and Tim winces even as he grins all the wider. Tony shakes his head fiercely and squints his eyes at the oddity of the invasion into Tim's space. Weirder still, though, is the fact that Tim not only _allows_ the trespass, but seems to _encourage_ it as well. And, well, okay, Tim often gets physical with Tony in mock fights or real ones, and of course the back of Probie's head is fair game for anyone on the team, but otherwise, Tim usually has a little invisible bubble-wrap-like deflector coating about him that most people realize they can't broach and so they rarely even bother to try.

Ziva gleefully dares to wiggle her poking finger a little more against Tim's side—right above his belt—and that's seriously not fair because Tim is wickedly ticklish around the waist, which Ziva obviously knows! Tony's eyes narrow as he wonders how long ago she figured it out and whether she's employed this tactic before. Immediately, Tony decides Ziva couldn't have learned about Tim's soft spot from him because Tony practically never tickles Tim in public, partly…er, okay—mostly—because it always seems more than a little gay to tickle another man to the point of giggling, but also because it's a part of the guy code that you never tell other people your best buddy's weak spots. Not when you can effectively exploit them yourself, anyway.

Of course, Ziva's the one exploiting Tim's not-so-soft underbelly at the moment. Tony's jaw clenches along with his fingers to see Tim grinning because of those probing fingers. Tony narrows his eyes when Tim playfully smacks away Ziva's hands like he usually does to Tony's.

"So how did the interview go, McRed-Light?" the words spill out of Tony's mouth before he really registers them in his mind.

Immediately, Tim's chin tilts Tony's way. The grin on Probie's face remains staunchly in place when he questions, "Huh?" with brow furrowed.

Tony's shoulders relax ever so slightly. Tim _can_ be completely oblivious at times. Then Tony zooms his gaze in on Ziva, feeling one brow lift in inquiry as he does. "Well?" he demands of Ziva.

Ziva rolls her eyes at him, sets her backpack behind her desk, and turns her attention to Gibbs, answering the query as if Boss had been the one asking. "Metro charged our potential witness, a Leo Martin, with breaking and entering. We tried multiple times, but he would not speak to us without his lawyer, who, in turn, would not allow Mr. Martin to speak at all, despite the fact that we mentioned—on several occasions—that we were not investigating him for a crime."

"It got us thinking, Boss," Tim's response dovetails exactly with the cadence of Ziva's voice, and once again, Tony feels his back straighten in concern. "We backburnered the Treski case from Norfolk last week because even though the pattern seemed to fit with several such thefts at bases across the country," Tim lets his pack fall from his shoulder to his desk as he talks, "it seemed like only low profile items were taken from the NEX, which didn't really make sense considering how fluid the criminal operations were executed, but—"

Tim trails off and Ziva takes over, "What if the thefts we _know_ about from the Naval Exchange were simply a smoke-mask—"

"Smokescreen," Tim seamlessly corrects.

"Yes, yes!" Ziva snaps her fingers on both hands—including the evil belly-poking finger—and then points towards McGee. "A smoke_screen_," Ziva rounds her desk and walks towards Tim, who is walking right back to her. Tony comes out from behind _his_ desk and meets the two of them in the middle, squinting at them both without prejudice. "And the perpetrators were after a larger target," Ziva finishes.

"So I started looking up other possible objectives," Tim jumps in again, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "And according to the sketches from the crime scene," Tim taps his cell where Tony knows Tim always sends the details of their most immediate cases, "the bulk of the thefts in each NEX clustered around its money transferring location within the store."

"We will have to check each location," Ziva chimes in, "But McGee believes the perpetrators," she squints and looks over to Tim, satisfied smile on her face, "are diverting wire transfers to fraudulently accrue interest."

Boss leans back in his chair, and Tony leans into the space Tim and Ms. Pokey Fingers seem to be sharing. "So bank fraud?" Boss simplifies it.

Tim squints measuringly, and his eyes go skyward for half a second before landing back on Gibbs. "Wire transfer fraud, yes," Tim refines Boss' suggestion, "though it might more accurately be called a kiting scheme."

Gibbs halfway angles his head away but keeps his gaze square on Tim. "Kiting?" Boss demands an explanation.

Tim scratches his chin, then opens the hand wide at face level, for emphasis. "Basically using money that isn't really there to earn interest on your account."

Gibbs shakes his head and keeps his eyes on Tim. "Wire transfer is supposed to be quick," Gibbs points out, his words seeming oddly cautious. "People are going to notice if their money doesn't get where it's going."

Tony looks Tim's way just in time to catch Tim's brows raised in satisfaction as his ready answer follows, "Not if the money's only diverted for a few seconds."

Tony taps Tim's bicep, letting his fingers fall as casually as he can down Tim's arm. He gains his partner's attention right away. "How can you earn interest on money that's barely in your account?" Tony asks.

Tim brings not one, but both hands up to chest level to explain, "Money is constantly shifting in and out of an account like this, but you can't think of it as the _same_ money shifting in and out," Tim shuffles his hands back and forth like basketball players on opposing teams. "You have to think about it holistically, and if you've got," Tim shrugs but the motion contradicts the thrum of excitement building in Probie's tone, "say a conservative hundred million dollars moving through your account every day, then interest adds up pretty quickly."

"A hundred million dollars is conservative?" Tony's almost startled at the amount, and he leans into Tim in his surprise.

"How would they be doing this?" Boss questions in that weirdly hesitant tone before Tim can answer, drawing Tim's eyes back to him and away from Tony.

"If we're right and the kiting _is_ occurring," Tim allows, "Then, considering the role of the NEX thefts, I'd say they're probably using hardware onsite to redirect the cash during the transfer before the money gets to its intended location," Tim concludes with a quick but solid glance back towards Tony. "There's more risk involved in discovery that way, and schemes with a hardware base don't usually garner as much revenue as a result, but the fraud is easier to accomplish for someone who's not as proficient at hacking." Tim turns up his nose ever so slightly at his own words. He can be such a snob about the strangest things.

Tony clears his throat, fighting a smile as he does, "Okay, there's just one thing I don't understand," he leads and feels his teams' eyes dart back towards him. "Did you figure all that out with your phone?"

Behind Tim, Gibbs rises and rounds his desk, rolling his eyes at Tony as he goes, but Tim gives Tony the smirk he was going for and offers a raised eyebrow besides. A spark of connection flutters between them, and Tony tries hard to keep his eyes away from the one-sided curl of Tim's mouth. He bites his lip to help maintain his focus, and notes when Tim's eyes drop to catch the motion. Tim's gaze shoots back up almost immediately to find Tony's returning stare. Tony's not sure what Tim finds in his eye, but it makes Tim smile that fond grin that he tends to point Tony's way more often than he's pointed it towards anybody else lately. Tony feels a familiar warmth bloom from his chest to somewhere below his belt, and he finds that he has to grin right back.

"First thing in the morning," Boss orders Tim, "I want you checking out the NEX in Norfolk to confirm your theory. If you find what you think we will, we'll pull agents from the field offices to check the other locations." Boss concludes his edict by literally _patting Tim on the back_, and Tony would be horrifically jealous except for the fact that it seems obvious that this was an incredible connection Tim made, and if it pans out, it could mean saving, well…_somebody_—Tony's not exactly sure who—millions of dollars.

Ziva nods in agreement, basking in the glow of Gibbs' praise, even if it's not totally directed towards her.

But Tim's brow squinches, even as Gibbs lets his approving grip linger on Tim's shoulder. "Wait, no, Boss!" Tim protests. "We have to take care of this now!" Tim vehemently shakes his head. If he shook any harder, he'd flip Gibbs' favoring hand right off his shoulder. "The easiest and most unobtrusive way to set up a scheme like this is to push the funds through the bank that it originated in, which, in this case, would be the Navy Federal Credit Union." Tim leans towards Gibbs as he explains. "If this is going on, then they're stealing a massive amount of money from Navy Federal!"

_Oh, from Navy Federal_, Tony nods. _That makes sense_, but wait, "So why's it so urgent that we pull it in tonight when the affected locations are already closed or closing?" Tony tilts his head towards the TV belting ZNN, the time in the corner of the screen clearly showing that it's nearly half-past six, so it'd be after nine by the time they could even get to Norfolk. "No more wire transfers until tomorrow, and if we're talking about electronically ripping off a bank, then nobody's life is at immediate risk, right?" Tony tilts his head as he questions. "So why are we going tonight?" Tony wants to know why Tim's got that burning need underlying his tone.

Tim shakes his head and twists to face Tony more fully. "It's a credit union, not a bank. A bank's losses affect its customers second-hand, meaning any problems in its management will be reflected in loan rates and bank fees after the fact or in anticipation of a future problem," Tim explains, "but a credit union is owned by every single person who invests in it, which means everyone with so much as a checking or savings account in the credit union will be directly and immediately affected by a major theft like this has the potential to be."

Tony squints, like he figures Ziva, and maybe even Boss, beside him are, too.

"Meaning what?" Boss demands.

Tim licks his lips and starts again, "Navy Federal provides for sailors' mortgages and retirements, not to mention their ability to buy a car or send their kids to college!" Tim shakes his head. "We're talking about millions of people losing their dreams for the future—plans that they've _invested_ in!" Probie has both palms open as he explains. "The more time we give them, the less likely we'll find direct evidence of their activities, and the less likely we'll be able to track down the money!"

Tim's shoulders collapse like he's losing his steam. "That is," Tim nearly stutters, "I mean it's possible that none of this is even happening. There may not be a kiting scheme in place at all," Tim allows, stretching an awkward hand behind his neck as he does. "It just seems highly suspect that _all_ of the Navy Exchange thefts were centrally located around the money transfer areas even though no actual cash was stolen."

Boss nods, eyes still on McGee, with both his hands now dormant at his sides. "It _is_ highly suspect," Boss agrees, making Tim immediately straighten back up, as if Boss agreeing with his instincts makes them feel more valid, which…okay is always true for Tony, too, and probably anyone who has ever spent so much as half a second on Gibbs' team. "Check it out," Boss orders.

Tim seems to reinflate, a pleased grin spans his features at the approval, and Probie immediately turns to share it with Tony. Tony grins right back at him, inordinately pleased with the offering and, okay, also the fact that Tim seems more in sync with Boss than he has in a while.

Tony's fighting the urge to smack Tim with a high five when he spies Boss' discerning eye working him over like he's got Tony in interrogation with no water and only bright lights for company. Tony barely manages not to wince at the scrutiny.

"Take Tony," Boss demands a second later even though Ziva's been working this angle with Tim all day, and Tim'll have to spend the entire drive down to Norfolk just getting Tony up to speed.

Ziva straightens her shoulders and abruptly shuts her jaw at being shut out. Within seconds, Ziva opens her mouth back up, Boss' name no doubt on her tongue, but Gibbs interrupts her before she can even start.

"Did I stutter?" Gibbs exclaims, ridiculously, because the world would probably end before Gibbs might be insecure enough to do so. "Go!" he doesn't have to yell because he's _Gibbs_.

Tim immediately sets into motion, grabbing his pack and checking the car keys before jetting down the hallway, and Tony certainly doesn't need to be told twice. He practically dives for his gun and throws his go-bag in the air, catching it right away as he scurries after Tim. He looks back at Ziva behind him, even though Lot's wife should have learned that lesson well enough for them all—never look back on the face of destruction. He finds Ziva glaring at him, mouth open with hurt since this lead rightfully belongs to her with Tim.

Tony winces because it's not right or fair for Ziva to be cut out like this, but Tony's still enormously grateful to Gibbs for forcing Tim to switch partners because Tony's been kind of dying to see him again since he watched Tim's worried eyes disappear into the elevator hours ago. Even now as they're scurrying for the door side by side, Tony's still trying to figure out where he stands with Tim. The thing is though, even with so much still up in the air between them, this is the most Tony's felt like himself all day.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 19**

It's almost eerie how quiet Tony is as he drives them to Norfolk. Instead, Tim's the one talking the whole way down, and even his guilt at Ziva getting shut out of this leg of the investigation can't tamp down on his excitement as he fills Tony in on the details they know and think they know about the case. It's rare for an investigation to fall so neatly into Tim's realm of expertise, and it feels good to be able to teach Tony something for a change when he's so accustomed to learning from his partner.

Tony hums at the case details and murmurs encouragement at Tim's mention of the debate he'd had with himself in the coffee shop that morning when he'd discovered they were out of blueberry strudel and did Tony think Boss had liked the scone he'd gotten him because it was blueberry, too, and Tim didn't think it'd be too sweet for Boss' staid tastebuds. Occasionally, Tony cracks ridiculous jokes that have no business being funny yet manage to make Tim smile every time a new one passes Tony's lips. And with every mile they travel and every detail revealed, it seems as though Tony's shoulders relax—pinch by pinch. By the time Tony parks the Charger in front of Norfolk's NEX, he almost looks like himself.

As they leave the car, they each grab their packs from the backseat in case they do find evidence of the suspected wire transfer fraud. Despite the fact that he'd felt so certain of the crime while he and Ziva had been throwing the idea back and forth hours ago, now Tim's mind keeps reneging on the possibility, wondering about how plausible it really is, and hoping he's not about to look like a moron when they have to call Gibbs to check in tonight.

They meet the security guard at the entrance to the building, and he guides them towards the wire transfer department, introducing them to the bank manager at the doorway of the NEX's Navy Federal branch. Usually, a visual like the manager's loose blond hair hanging down her back or her long legs alone would be enough to garner a long look and a grin from Tony, but DiNozzo barely offers her a word of greeting despite the encouraging smile the 30-something woman offers him. Instead, Tony's biting his lip and looking at Tim again like he had for much of the drive down. Tim offers his partner a small smile and squeezes his arm, before taking out his maglight and going right for the computers. Even accounting for the removal of the outside case, it takes Tim less than two minutes to find it.

"Keylogger," Tim declares seconds after he spies the custom circuit board inside the otherwise boring, factory-made Toshiba.

From his position underneath the wire transfer specialist's desk, Tim can't see anything but Tony's legs, but then Tony squats down beside him and suddenly every bit of his partner from the chest down is visible to him. Tony reaches an arm to rest his hand just below Tim's knee.

"That's the kind of program you pranked me with three years ago when you put my Google searches up on the plasma," Tony recalls softly, though not as accusingly as he has a right to.

"I said I was sorry!" Tim returns plaintively, a familiar twist of guilt in his gut, "and I cut the connection before anybody saw the," Tim drops his voice to a whisper, "the Rogaine website."

"I told you that was research for a case!" Tony hisses back, but there's no real bite to his words, and the slight squeeze Tony gives Tim's leg—just a little higher up on the knee than his hand was before—is entirely playful.

"I believe you!" Tim comes back immediately, though he'd probably say the same thing even if Tony had the mother of all bald spots on the top of his head because there are just some things that people are too sensitive to and apparently all the men on Tony's mother's side had gone completely bald by the time they were 45—a fact that Tony had once confided with the most serious complete and abject terror—and afterward Tim couldn't ever bring himself to use it against Tony.

Tony's thumb traces the line above Tim's kneecap, then he twists his hand to cup Tim's calf. Half a second later, Tony's hand stiffens and drops in a fist to the floor on the outside of Tim's leg. Tim barely has time to wonder why before the bank manager's bright red high heels come into view on Tony's other side.

"Ms. Lerner," Tony addresses her with a far more sober tone than Tim's accustomed to hearing Tony direct towards a pretty woman.

"Carmen, please," the woman corrects, and every muscle of Tim's back tenses up as he waits for Tony to offer his own given name in return.

"Carmen," Tony begins but pauses a moment afterward to pat Tim's leg again, this time just above the knee and onto Tim's thigh. "My partner and I appreciate you staying to let us into the bank this evening," Tony offers kindly but without any flirtation at all.

Carmen clears her throat, and if Tim's not mistaken there's a bit of chagrin to the hum that comes right afterward. "It's no problem at all agents," she addresses both of them this time even though Tim's still more than halfway under the desk. "I want to know if those robberies have anything to do with this credit union."

Tony turns his body towards her and slowly stands, and there's a sudden looseness in his muscles that Tim recognizes immediately as Tony's innate flirtaciousness coming to life. "You know," Tim can practically see the way Tony's eyes must be roaming Carmen's body as he purrs at her, "My buddy here can probably handle this search alone if you wanted to go get a cup of coffee with me," Tony finishes, but there's a huskiness to his voice that Tim recognizes as oddly artificial. Tim bites his lip and waits for Carmen's response.

"Wouldn't be my first drink of choice," Carmen teases, stepping into Tony as she does, "but I can be flexible with the right kind of company,"

"Mmm," Tony hums and lowers his voice, "I can be the right kind of company."

"Let's find out if you're up to the challenge then, Agent DiNozzo," Carmen shifts on her feet until she's leaning right into—

"Tony, please," DiNozzo echoes her earlier insistence.

"Tony, then," Carmen draws out his name, as if it's sexy to make two syllables stretch into three. "Are you sure your partner wouldn't mind if we stepped out for a minute…or two?" her voice lilts in a tease.

"McGee," Tony's voice is suddenly sharper when he sends a manly kick against Tim's shin, "You can handle this, right?"

"No problem, buddy," Tim emphasizes with a harder kick to Tony's calf.

"Oof," Tony lets out a tiny grunt of pain but then tries to cover it with a laugh. "My buddy here will deal with this, and he can always call our tech people if he can't find whatever they asked us to find anyway."

Tim feels a flutter of irritation run the course over his body at Tony's diss of his kung fu despite the now obvious pretense of the conversation. Tim doesn't know what Tony heard that he didn't but somewhere in their brief conversation, Carmen slipped from probable bystander to possible suspect in Tony's mind.

"I'll just get my purse," Carmen leans in even closer to Tony. "You don't go anywhere," she commands, and Tim just _knows_ she has her hands on Tony's chest.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Tony wiggles a little her way, which is really the last straw that finally makes Tim roll his eyes, moving his whole head as he does since neither one of them can see the motion anyway.

From beneath the desk, Tim watches Tony's flirty feet watch Carmen walk away. The second after the snick of a door latch indicates Carmen's office door is shut, Tony ducks down under the desk with Tim and straight into his space. Tim immediately bangs his head on the bottom of the keyboard tray in surprise.

"Ow! Tony, geez!" Tim rubs the knot forming on his head.

"Get whoever's awake at the Norfolk office to come down here with you, and for crying out loud stay out from under the desks until you've got backup," Tony commands. "I'm going to take her to dinner, _okay_?" Tony doesn't even bother to voice her name, as if it's unimportant between them.

Then something about the intensity of the way Tony says that final word makes Tim drop his hand from his forehead and look his partner in the eye. Tony's biting his lip, brows pinched with worry and face tight with a familiar but rare concern, as if Tony is worried Tim might be mad at him. Tim shakes his head, not sure at first why Tony might think Tim could be upset at him for doing his job, and then the conversation in the elevator earlier crosses back over his mind. _It's okay if we say it's okay_, they'd told each other. Tim feels his face scrunch up as he wonders if Tony really thinks he needs permission from him to go on this fake date. He's ready to roll his eyes again when he calls to mind how jumpy and out of sorts Tony's been all day, which instantly kills Tim's impulse to make light of this situation. Tim knows Tony can't quite figure out how they're supposed to fit together right now, even though it still makes perfect sense to Tim that these new things between he and Tony are not at all incongruous with the fact that Tony is still his best friend and his Senior Agent and will ever, always remain so.

"Okay," Tim responds softly.

"Okay?" Tony questions again.

"Yeah," Tim nods with a soft smile and pats Tony's chest right above the last hooked button where a tiny bit of chest hair peaks around his Oxford—where Carmen must have teased her fingers a few minutes before. "Go!" he commands, giving Tony a push, when he hears the office door open back up.

Tony's on his feet again before Tim hears the _click-click_ patter of Carmen's heels on the faux wooden floor.

Tim hears Carmen's sultry voice a moment later, "Ready to go, Tony?"

"You better believe it," Tony all but growls back.

Tim sits up in time to spy Tony guiding her out of the bank's double doors with a hand to her back, his whole body leaning into her space just enough to make her want to lean back. There's not a hint of doubt in Tony's posture, not a bit of the worry or concern that's been written across his partner's body all day. It should be a shock, realizing just how much of his ladies' man persona Tony can peel on or off at will, but watching Tony walk away, grinning flirtatiously at their suspect, Tim feels the image he has of Tony in his mind click a little more fully into place without the least bit of fanfare. Tim knows who his partner is, has for a while now. He just gets it a little better now.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

Posted with thanks to Precious Pup!

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><p>In the quiet of their hotel room that night—after he brought Carmen Lerner back to Tim in handcuffs, after Tim brought in the Norfolk team to help him process the technical evidence, after Tim created some sort of work around so that the hack wouldn't work anymore but that it <em>looked<em> like it did for the benefit of the other people responsible for the kiting scheme, and even after Tim gave him those soft eyes and that sweet smile as Tony explained to him how Carmen's knowledge of the multiple NEX robberies when she would have only been informed of the one due to protocol was what got Tony's radar blaring warning signals at him—Tony has the television on low and watches the flickering lights play over Probie's body like a candle's light in the otherwise mostly dark room. Like him, Tim is shirtless with only boxers slung about his waist to cover any part of his body.

A couple years ago, Tim would have been wearing a t-shirt over his shorts in a nod to both modesty and embarrassment. Tony regrets the fact, but he knows that if Tim had gone shirtless then, he would have teased Tim about the extra weight he'd been carrying then. He wouldn't have been mean about it exactly, and it's not as if Tim had looked bad or anything. Probie had always leaned more towards early Elvis than late Elvis on the traditional Elvis scale of chubby-and-hot to chunky-and-not.

It's good to see how comfortable Probie feels now in his skin. Tony wants to reach out and touch that confidence, skim it with his fingertips, mark it with his mouth, bring his whole body up against it and just _squeeze_.

But Tony feels his own confidence stutter and falter watching Tim strut about the room, er, well, walk between the TV and the sink as he alternates between checking out the Miami Vice rerun Tony found on some local station—because good television is apparently too old for Nick at Nite!—and brushing his teeth.

He catches Tim looking him over more than once, spies the tension around Tim's eyes and his toothpaste rimmed mouth open and shut more than once, sans toothbrush, like Probie's got something on his mind that has nothing to do with the case they just blew wide open in the last three hours.

Tony listens while Tim rustles his toothbrush away and then gargles. The familiar Tim-noises are soothing, letting Tony relax more deeply into his pillow as he waits for Tim to finish his nightly routine and take his place in the second bed beside the one where Tony's reclining.

With a soft flick of a lightswitch, Probie shuts off the bathroom overhead, making the soft flux of the television's light more pronounced. In two quick steps, Tim sits hard beside Tony on his bed, making them both bounce on the worn springs.

Tony glares at his partner at the jostling, but Tim just grins cheekily, making it obvious that he knows Tony doesn't really mind.

"The only reason you're feeling so patently peppy," Tony teases, "this late on a Monday night is because El Heffe is coming tomorrow to pat your head and call you a good doobie," Tony intentionally reminds Tim of his earlier phone call to Gibbs, wanting to see a recurrence of that shyly prideful smile that always spans Tim's lips whenever Boss gives him a well deserved compliment.

He isn't disappointed. Tim even ducks his head before lifting his gaze back up to Tony, smiling at him from beneath his eyelashes.

"Not just me, Tony," Tim lightly taps Tony's arm before his fingers scurry away, "I never would have realized Carmen Lerner was working for the kiting scheme if you hadn't been there. You've got a way of really looking right into people." There's pride in Tim's face at the pronouncement, and this time, his pride is invested in Tony.

Tony holds Tim's stare, knowing that last week or last month or before he thought this thing they were doing could last more than five minutes, he'd have made a joke of Tim's earnest words—something that would've made Tim laugh or at least roll his eyes—anything to deflect that intense sincerity away from Tony. Now though, Tony just wishes Tim's words were true. He wishes he could see into Tim right now and know exactly what he's thinking about everything.

"We work well together, McFoil," Tony finally says, splitting the difference between wanting to diffuse the intensity of the situation with a joke and needing to recognize Tim's compliment.

Tim nods in an exaggerated motion, pulling his feet from where they dangle to the floor and crisscrossing them up onto the bed as he twists his body around to face Tony. "We play well together, too," Tim runs his thumb along the line of Tony's shoulder, close to his upper chest. Tim lets his hand lie dormant on Tony's bicep afterward and watches him.

Tony's whole body stills. He feels his breathing shallow as his heart hammers in his chest. He pulls his opposite arm up to hold Tim's hand there against his skin while he sits up beside his partner.

"Yeah, we do," Tony whispers back the confirmation. He doesn't know where Tim's going with this, but he is so all over it.

But then Tim blinks down at the slight space between them like he doesn't know where he's going with this either. He doesn't move away though. He just sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and keeps an eye on the centimeter between Tony's boxer's and his own bare thigh. Tony runs his thumb over the back of Probie's hand where it still lies on Tony's bare skin. He immediately garners Tim's attention as Tim's earnest eyes look up to him, seemingly ready to leap whichever way Tony does.

Which is why he never even sees Tony coming.

"Ahh!" a girly scream shoots from Tim's lips as Tony's free hand goes for Tim's flank, reclaiming it from Ziva's earlier proprietary pokes. "Tony!" Tim screeches and tries to squirm away, but Tony uses his heavier body mass to push him to the bed and wriggle his other hand against Tim's belly.

"Wait! Tony, stop! Please, I can't—" Tony's pretty sure Tim would've flipped him on his back by now if his legs weren't jello from the breathless giggling—Tim's surprisingly fierce in non-violent hand-to-hand.

"What was that?" the grin nearly splits Tony's face wide open as his body revels in the way Tim moves against him, leaning into Tony as much as he's reflexively trying to get away. Tony has a secret theory that Tim wasn't tickled enough as a child. There's no way he'd like it this much now if he'd had aunties and cousins exhaust his tickle reflex as a kid. "I can't hear you over the girlish laughter," Tony gleefully taunts his partner.

"Tony—" Tim complains breathlessly this time, "I'm going to throw up!"

Tony eases up immediately just in case it's not a ploy. Wary of retaliation, he keeps his hands at Tim's wrists.

Tim catches his breath, his grin as wide as Tony's when he glances above him to look at his partner. "Do it again," Tim commands, but then his brow furrows and he bites his lip as if wondering if what they're doing and what he's asking is permissible between them. "Okay?" Tim adds softly and a little unevenly a beat later.

Tony just holds his pose above Tim for another moment before nodding. "Okay," he agrees just as softly. He loosens his grip at Tim's wrist, letting his fingertips skim the bare skin up to Tim's neck. Tim arches right into the light touch. Tim's so tempting like this—laid out and bare before him. Tony's hands itch to roam across Tim's chest freely. His thumb smoothes against Tim's adam's apple, and Tim swallows hard. Tony can feel the rough motion sliding down his throat.

Reflexively, Tony's fingers recoil, forming and retracting a nervous fist in the space between Tim's body and his own. Practically throwing himself off of Tim, Tony stretches for the remote and kills the TV, leaving only a soft and fading glow where a sockless Don Johnson had been driving through the well lit streets of Miami a moment before.

The darkness only magnifies the new silence in the hotel room, making the sound of Tony's breathing seem way too heavy and obvious against the background of that stillness.

It feels like an odd sort of stalemate for a minute, like the dozen or so hostage negotiations Tony's been involved in through NCIS and Baltimore PD, and that one time in Peoria, though Tony's not sure if he or Tim is the hostage in this situation. Maybe they both are.

"Gimme a pillow," Tim demands both gently and beautifully brazenly where Tony can't think of how to move forward at all.

Immediately acceding to the request, Tony yanks one of the cushions from where he'd been lying before Tim finished brushing his teeth and pushes it in Tim's direction. Accepting the offering, Tim leans onto his side—closer into Tony. He pulls the pillow beneath his head and curls into it, curling into Tony as he does and not moving an inch towards the second bed.

Tony follows his lead, tugging the other pillow towards the middle of the full mattress and letting himself relax into Tim all along where their skin touches as he lies down. Tony furrows his brow. McSkinny gets so chilly anymore now that he's lost so much of his body fat. With a quick lean forward that briefly brings their bodies into more contact, Tony grabs for the covers and pulls them up over the both of them. He fusses with the blanket for a moment, letting his arm rest down Tim's back even as he tightens the comforter over Tim's shoulder.

"Let's go to sleep, alright?" Tony implores.

"I, um—" Tim starts and stutters, making that slight burrow between his brows visible to Tony even in the heavy darkness. "Okay," Tim allows a beat later, though his tone seems to be seeking something from Tony.

Giving Tim's shoulder one last squeeze, Tony whispers, "Okay," with as much reassurance as he can.

Tim takes a deep breath, satisfied this time. "Sweet dreams," the words are muted by the pillow as Tim digs into it.

"Yeah," Tony acknowledges with a smile. "You, too."


	21. Chapter 21

With thanks to Precious Pup.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

When they get back into the Yard the next morning, Tim and Tony barely have time to log the evidence from Norfolk with Abby and secure their suspect with Agent Hyer in holding before Boss gets a call from Metro.

"Leo Martin is dead," Boss informs them as he drops the phone receiver back into its cradle.

Tim and Tony immediately grab their go-bags, and Ziva—running into the bullpen just as Boss hangs up the phone—turns around midstride, beating them all to the elevator.

"Morning," Tim bumps shoulders with her and tries to catch her eye as they wait for the lift.

She stiffens at the contact, responds rigidly and without turning, "Good morning, McGee."

Tim glances over his shoulder to find Tony's sympathetic cringe ready and waiting for him. They hadn't talked about it at all on their trip, but they'd each known there was going to be fallout from Boss' decision to cut Ziva loose from their lead last night—especially after the lead proved so useful and even led to an arrest.

Tony cups his elbow for a long second, rubbing his thumb towards Tim's bicep, and Tim can't help but to smile at his partner despite the resentment radiating off Ziva in waves on his other side. Tony smiles back, and it's that gentle, cajoling grin of his that always makes Tim feel like Tony's coaxing him into doing something that he knows he shouldn't do, but that he'll also never regret.

Tony bites his bottom lip the way he never does—DiNozzo's never tried to hide a flirty grin for as long as Tim's known him. That slow-like-honey smile reminds Tim of how soft and welcoming those lips are against his own, and of how Tony's lips always taste both familiar and exciting. He wonders if those lips would taste differently now than they had when he'd last tasted them in the muted Sunday morning light. Well, there'd be the added flavor of coffee on Tony's tongue and maybe an extra bit of sweetness from the cinnamon roll Tony'd had in the car, but surely Tony couldn't taste that differently at work than he had while they were, well, _playing_ two mornings before?

Dropping his eyes, Tim can't fight his own grin, so he angles his face a little to the left where he wagers Boss won't be able to catch it, where Tim will be able to keep this silent joy secret between him and Tony.

The elevator dings. MCRT pauses long enough to let Michaelson off before they all clamor aboard. Ziva may be rigid with anger in front of him, and Boss may be fierce with determination to his left, but flush against Tim's right forearm where it rests above the elevator rail, is Tony's arm. The slight touch—insistent as Tony always is—fills up some intangible something in Tim's chest to nearly unbearably full, making him feel both tight and loose all over.

The elevator dings again and Boss and Ziva rush outside, their minds either already on the case or at least outside of the lift, while Tim moves more slowly, grabbing Tony's hand to pull him as they move behind the rest of their team.

Tony yanks back on Tim's hand even though Tim hasn't even made it half an arm's length away from him.

There's that bitten off grin again, but then, after a single squeeze of Tim's hand, Tony lets him go, "Lead on, McPlaymate."

They have to jog to make it to the van at the same time as Ziva, but at least Tony's got the keys this time, and Boss only hollers at them once as he's getting into the Charger, and the yell is only half as insistent as usual, even though Boss is at least midway through his second cup of coffee, so they all know he's not really angry.

Ziva twitches for the entire trip in her seat between Tim and Tony, frequently bumping into Tony's right arm, purposely jostling it though Tony's habit is to drive with his right hand only as his left lies on the armrest of the driver's side door. Tim looks over at Tony, but Tony just keeps his eyes focused on the road, still wet from an early morning rain, and Tim's pretty sure he's trying to block out all things Ziva by giving the highway his complete attention.

She barely speaks on the trip over to Rock Creek Park, and Tim thinks about trying the poking thing again, but he's afraid if he did he might end up with a hole in his stomach. Not only that, but yesterday it almost seemed like Tim sharing pokes with Ziva bothered Tony for some reason. Tim was probably seeing things, but Tony's hands kept practically hovering above Tim's belly for hours afterward—even when they were in the car and even though Tony was driving.

By unspoken agreement, he and Tony move cautiously from the vehicle when they get to the crime scene, as if to keep from startling a wounded cat—a very large, decidedly undomesticated cat.

The two men try to gather the bulk of the equipment from the back of the van, but Ziva huffs at the attempt at chivalry. She pushes in front of them to pull out two of the heavier cases.

Tony just shrugs at Tim and shakes his head. Tim shrugs back, certainly not willing to comment on the situation himself.

Ziva scurries out a few feet ahead of them on the light trail through the forest. Tim follows her, eyeing the sparse greenery suspiciously as he goes.

Tony notes the look and says, smile in his eyes, "Remember—leaves of three, Probie."

Tim shakes his head, chuckling at the memory now.

Ziva pauses on the trail in front of them after this exchange. Her posture doesn't alter at all, and she doesn't move to draw her weapon, so Tim doubts she sees a threat on the path in front of her. Still, he looks around carefully because one of the major lessons he's learned in MCRT is that danger can come on very quickly and seemingly out of nowhere.

Ziva turns abruptly on them, and there it is—case in point. She drops the equipment and crosses her arms just below her breasts. Tim cringes to see the boxes on the ground, looking for his three-leafed archenemy near the hard plastic cases and hoping he doesn't need anything out of them at the crime scene.

Ziva doesn't keep them in suspense long: "What is going on between the two of you?" she blurts like she cannot tolerate not knowing for a second more, and knowing Ziva that's probably the truth.

Tim blinks, his mind suddenly recalling the feel of Tony up against him, smooth and firm; the heat of Tony's mouth; the sweetness of his tongue. He feels a flush start climbing his chest but shakes his head, as if to remind himself that Ziva can't possibly have so much as an inkling about it. His mind blanks then, unsure what else she might be talking about. Tim looks to Tony just behind him, and Tim knows panic is filling his features because he _knows_ he can't ever keep a single thing from his face when he's confronted directly about it.

Tony steps around Tim, shielding him from Ziva's eyes, and as he passes, Tim can see the brick wall rise up across Tony's face, firmly sealing himself—and Tim—in safety behind it. Tim's gaze stays on Tony, not venturing towards Ziva at all.

"I don't follow," Tony tilts his head.

"Of course," Ziva nods and shuffles a step to the side to point her arm at Tim. "Nothing is going on, and that is why you are hiding McGee behind you! We all know he cannot lie to seal his skin."

Despite the onslaught, Tim has to fight a grin at Ziva's confused colloquialism.

She glares at him in frustration, seeming to understand the general source of his amusement, but not what was off about her phrasing. Immediately, Tim tries to wipe the smile from his face. It's never any fun to be the one left out of the loop after all, and while Tim feels bad that she knows he and Tony are sharing a secret and keeping it from her, there's just _no way_ Tim's planning on letting her know what's going on between him and Tony. He doubts he could accurately describe it in any case.

"Well, maybe, Probationary Agent David, I'm simply trying to stand in the sunshine of your smile," Tony schmoozes, and Tim knows immediately that his partner must have that cheesy smile on his face that most people never figure out is fake. Tim ducks his head and winces because Ziva is _not_ one of those people.

Ziva levels her glare at Tony, aiming all her anger in DiNozzo's direction, which effectively permits McGee to bring his chin back up and stop trying to hide his features from her view.

"You have both been acting oddly for weeks," she declares, though at this point, her glare is for Tony alone, "and you cannot think that your hoppiness of yesterday went unnoticed!" Ziva juts out her chin and leans just a little bit towards Tony.

"I was _not_ hoppy!" Tony enunciates carefully and with no small amount of indignation if the current angle of his chin is any indication. "Bunnies are hoppy," Tony corrects, tilting his head farther to the left, and Tim doesn't have to look to know that Tony's eyes are shifting up and down Ziva's form as he judges how she's judging his words. "Very Special Agents merely show elevated concern to threats in their environment."

Ziva squints at Tony. She straightens her form as she looks their partner over. "And how was your environment threatened yesterday, _Very_ Special Agent DiNozzo?" she demands with concern even as she mocks.

Tony's back tenses up at the inquiry, and Tim can see at once that even though he and Tony hashed this out between them, even though Tim woke up this morning with his face pressed against Tony's shoulder and leaning into Tony's fingers in his hair, Tony's still feeling unbalanced about the whole thing.

"It wasn't," Tim answers for him when he feels the confusion in Tony's continued silence. Tim steps forward and claps a heavy hand down onto Tony's shoulder, just near the joint with his neck. "I had his back, Ziva. He's okay," Tim tries to reassure her legitimate concerns and yet not give their secrets away, even as he knows she'll never be satisfied with his brief answer.

Tim barely has time to feel Tony leaning into him ever so slightly before Ziva refocuses her displeasure back onto him, her ire seeming to flower more fully the second her gaze lands back on him.

"You!" Ziva points at Tim in vexation. "You are twice as uneven as Tony!" she exclaims, but then her eyes drop to Tim's shoulder and her anger becomes almost halted, almost hesitant as she accuses, "First you are sad, then you are happy, then are sullen, and now you are what?—Jovial? Will it even be the same an hour from now?" Ziva swallows hard and blinks up at Tim before shaking her head at them both. "What is going on?" she demands again. "Neither of you is behaving…" she twists her face and tilts her chin far to the right, eyeing them with consideration, "like yourself." Her gaze jumps between the two of them, though it seems to linger for longer every time it lands on Tony than it does on Tim.

And the thing is, Tim's always been okay with this _thing_ between his partners. He's never defined it, and he knows they never have either, but their _thing_ has always been an odd combination to him, comprised of jealousy and possessiveness with a significant amount of nosiness mixed in. He'd guessed a couple years ago that their connection would probably never become romantic even though he's certain that the two of them might have had the potential to have such a relationship at some point.

Tim purses his lips, because it's not as though he doesn't appreciate Ziva's concern. He's not blind after all, and he does realize how oddly he and Tony have both behaved recently. In this moment, though, with Ziva's eyes on Tony like he _owes_ her something, what Tim feels most is the itch of irritation to have her inquires forced on them at a moment when they have other things to focus on. Well, not that they could actually _tell_ Ziva what's been going on between them in any case but for her to press the issue at a crime scene with possible poison ivy all around them? It just makes Tim hone in on the fact that this is so incredibly _not her business_.

Moreover, Tim's pretty sure that _he's_ the only one who's been acting any differently in recent weeks, and he finds it suspicious that the very day after Tony behaved strangely—the _only_ day that Tony acted oddly at all—is when Ziva chooses to foist her theory off onto them. Tim knows it shouldn't bother him, the fact that Ziva is more concerned with Tony's welfare than his own, because despite the fact that Tim feels like he was initially closer to Ziva than anyone else on the team was, he knows he doesn't hold that same ranking with her now. Tim's tried not to mourn that closeness he thought they could have had because it's not as if they aren't close at all. It's just that, unless Tony's right there with them, the closeness he has with Ziva stops the moment Tim leaves the Yard.

"Well, you've caught us!" Tim exclaims, feeling the words inflate themselves in his irritation. He senses Tony tense up under his fingers before he lifts his hand from Tony's shoulder to push his way ahead of his partner on the pathway and just shy of Ziva's personal space. "I didn't want to tell you like this, but I figured we'd have more time before asking for medical leave."

Ziva tenses up in front of him, and her whole face pinches with anxiety, and Tim _knows_ with sudden clarity that he's going to feel so guilty for this moment later, but he can't quite bring himself to care right now. "I'm pregnant, and Tony's the father!" he throws his arms in the air.

Ziva blinks, her mouth still tight with concern. Abruptly, she squints and then her mouth goes lax, as if her skin can only either pinch in one direction, beside her mouth or her eyes, at a given time.

Tim spies Tony's startled posture calming a moment later from the corner of his eye. "Now, now, don't upset yourself!" Tony jumps in and grabs onto the weak joke with both hands, but the humor in his partner's voice doesn't quite cover his relief in being able to hide behind Tim's not-so-subtle subterfuge. "You know what the doctor said." Tony pats Tim's belly in emphasis, his hands seeming to move like they're iron and Tim's gut is magnetic north.

"Sorry," Tim covers the hand on his belly with one of his own, holding the gentle touch steadfast against the cotton of his shirt. "Just think, this time next year we'll have a little McGee."

"A little _DiNozzo_!" Tony corrects.

"McGee!" Tim tightens his grip on Tony's hand in mock irritation.

"DiNozzo!" Tony steps a little closer, getting into the faux argument.

Ziva shakes her head and shuts her eyes, irritation spreading across her face like wildfire. "Fine," she opens her eyes back up to glare at them. "If that is the game you wish to play, then play it!" Ziva continues to glower at them both. "Go ahead and lie to me. I _could_ have been your ally, but _you_," she jerkily points to them both, "chose differently, but if you think you can teabag Gibbs the way you are trying to with me, then you—"

The image completely and utterly and eww, very inadvertently flashes in Tim's mind of some guy teabagging his balls into Gibbs' open mou—Tim shudders even as the snicker bubbles up from deep inside his chest. Tony turns to him less than a second later, moving his grip from Tim's belly to his far forearm in something almost similar to an embrace and laughing so hard he can't catch his breath.

They can't speak a word between guffaws. Tony lets Tim's forearm go, waves his free arm between them as if to try to cut them off, but he can't even keep the hand steady, finally grabbing onto Tim's arm again as he nearly collapses into giggles.

"I do not understand. What—" Ziva tries to cut in, in her confusion but gives up when her words spark a renewed surge of laughter.

"Humph," she turns from them in a huff, grabbing the cases and blazing her way across the trail and away from them.

It takes a couple minutes before the two men can even stand up straight, let alone follow behind her. They earn a death glare from Gibbs at their tardiness, but when the Boss notes their good humor, the daggers in his eyes go dull by a tiny, _tiny_ touch.

The two men get to work on the crime scene, still giggling at turns. Their good mood spreads around the team, making Ducky and Palmer grin even without being privy to the conversation that sparked the episode. The park ranger on site smirks widely, despite the proximity to a close-to-glowering-though-not-quite-all-the-way Gibbs. Even Gibbs himself doesn't make a move to holler at them though they're definitely messing with the usual crime scene vibe. Only Ziva remains immovable, frowning profusely at the smiles and the guffaws that continue randomly here and there.

McGee doesn't stop laughing completely until his phone catches a signal as he stands beside Leo Martin, still sitting in a camp chair, casual but for the bullet hole in his forehead.

"What is it, Tim?" Tony picks up on the change immediately.

Tim shakes his head. "Not sure yet, but definitely something."

Gibbs glances up with interest and moves a little closer to Tim, and it kind of seems like Boss is almost, well, eager, to hear what Tim's got to say. "What do you got?"

"A bluetooth signal. I'm trying to pinpoint it now, but it looks like Leo Martin's tablet," Tim points to the now trashed machine with the missing hard drive, "was linked to another device nearby." Tim bites his tongue to make sure he doesn't descend nervously into technobabble. Boss can't stand it when he does that.

"What sort of device?" Ziva reenters the conversation after having given the whole group of men the silent treatment from the moment she stepped onto the crime scene.

"Could be anything," Tim shakes his head and watches the strength of the signal remain constant as he walks the length of the camp. "Normal range for your average bluetooth is about thirty feet, but I'm guessing from the consistency of this signal that this is a class one, which has ten times the range. I can narrow down the direction pretty easily by trying to find the perimeter, but after a certain point, it's just a manual search because I won't be able to distinguish the signal any further."

"Find it," Gibbs orders. "Tony," Boss orders him to go with McGee with a jerk of his chin. "Ziva," he calls, and she immediately straightens her posture. "Finish processing the scene."

All three of them nod and move hurriedly to their assigned tasks.

The app on Tim's phone lets him determine the bluetooth signal originates from the south side of the camp, but neither he nor Tony find any tracks in that area because of the early morning downpour so they turn the section into a search grid.

Boss sends Ziva after them an hour later to tell them they've finished the immediate crime scene—not that there was much to process other than the body, another consequence of the rain. Ziva's chin is still high, her tone haughty as she relays Gibbs' order for them to keep looking while the two of them go back to the cool, dry office that doesn't have any plants with contact poisons in them.

Not long after that, he and Tony find Leo Martin's carefully camouflaged equipment, after almost literally turning over every leaf of the late spring groundcover as they go. Tim is as careful as he can be, but he's sure he must have found a batch of poison ivy at some point—he can feel the itch crawling up his whole body. That doesn't stop Tony from teasing him by sidling up against him and turning his nose up as he declares that they must be near a hummingbird's nest.

"A hummingbird, Tony?" Tim reflects his partner's grin right back to him.

"Yes, McDanielBoone, I'm surprised you've never realized that hummingbirds have a very distinct odor, not unlike that of cinnamon."

"Hmm," Tim nods seriously, letting Tony school him. "Cinnamon, you say?"

"Exactly," Tony nods back, eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Well," Tim steps closer, and if Tony doesn't mind potentially getting poison ivy from him (who still can't recognize it as readily as Tony can), then Tim figures he doesn't mind getting close to Tony either. "I smell the cinnamon, but how do I know that it's the hummingbird and not your breakfast I'm catching?" Tim teases Tony back, picking up Tony's tie as if said breakfast is staining it.

Tony stills at the touch, his chest moving more rapidly beneath Tim's fingers, "Good question, Probie," Tony licks his lips, and then Tim spies Tony glancing down to his mouth. "You just gotta get close enough."

Tim's eyes flip up, checking every which way, and wondering if anyone can see. He doesn't find anybody, hasn't even heard anyone since about ten minutes after Ziva walked back towards where the park ranger found the body this morning. There may as well not be another soul around for miles. He looks back at Tony right before he leans in.

Tony sucks in a quick, harsh breath when Tim moves, his arm going up to grab at Tim's back as if to steady himself, like Tim might knock him down otherwise. Tim brings his face in close to Tony's, keeping his nose around Tony's jawline as he moves from his partner's chin back to his ear. The slight smell of coffee is pleasantly trounced by that expensive citrusy aftershave that Tony switches to every March. The scent never ceases to remind Tim that summer is coming. Beneath both aromas there's the faint trace of Tony's shampoo from last night —it was all over the pillow he gave to Tim before they went to sleep. The scent isn't unfamiliar to Tim, but he usually never catches it unless he comes into contact with Tony pretty soon after his shower. The fragrance fades pretty quickly.

"No cinnamon here," Tim fights to keep from running his finger along the smoothness of Tony's shave. "Must be the hummingbirds."

Tony's grip on his shoulder tightens briefly. "Yeah," he agrees softly.

That's when Tim realizes he's still grasping Tony's tie. He lets it go, straightening it against Tony's chest. It takes Tim a second like this to realize his mouth is right by Tony's jawline and the hand on Tony's chest isn't anywhere near his tie anymore but is instead drawing a swath across Tony's right pec.

He pulls away. A second later, he drops his hand and takes a step back. Tony's hand falls back to his side as he does.

"We should get back to the van," Tony points in the general direction of Beach Dr., but when his hand reaches out like it normally would to push Tim or prod him where Tony wants him to go, he makes a nervous fist instead, just like he did last night.

Tim bites his lip, "Okay?" he asks a question instead of answering his agreement.

Tony blinks, tilting his head in question at Tim for a moment, then he rolls his eyes and whacks the back of Tim's head, "Oh my gosh, yes, okay!" he tells Tim, as if Tim is a moron for even asking, then he moves ahead of Tim and into the trees and away from Rock Creek.

Tim bounds after him, spurred by surprise. The slight tingle from the smack seems to linger as they walk back to the van together, both of them carrying bits of evidence, but neither of them overburdened.


	22. Chapter 22

Posted with thanks to BellaHickenbottom, d767468, xenascully, Gottahavemyncis, raspberry dreams, Silverfox588, megamom2, Spirit Of Soon To Be, DS2010, Miso Muchi, luv-blonde-bunny, kalliopeia, and to everyone who has reviewed this story.

And a special thanks to Precious Pup.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

Back at the Yard, Tim and Tony rehash their findings for Gibbs and Ziva in the bullpen as soon as the new evidence is logged. "It was a laptop," Tim explains to Boss the second he and Tony step into their cubicle. "But it was pretty thoroughly destroyed—the rain and probably a raccoon or a very large squirrel," he belatedly adds before Boss can imagine foul play.

"Can you fix it?" Gibbs comes back right away.

"No," Tim clears his throat, "but I might be able to pull the data. Either way, I think we may have found the kiting scheme's tech guy."

"Oh?" Boss asks, leaning back in his seat as he does.

"Yeah," Tim confirms, "Looks like Leo Martin was a good hardware guy. Probably the type with burns all over his fingers," Tim shrugs, remembering a dozen guys from undergrad who were exactly the same way.

"Burns?" Tony asks.

Tim glances his partner's way, "From soldering."

"Ah," Tony lifts his head.

"I'll know more if I can access his computer, but my guess is that he was probably a decent programmer, but not the type who could've headed an ICPC team or anything."

"Yeah, um, and if you were pretending that none of us," Tony gesturing around to himself and then to Ziva and Gibbs, "knew what that meant, then the next thing you would say would be," Tony leads.

Tim grins, "ICPC is a collegiate programming competition, Tony." He says and then looks back to Gibbs. "Something of a proving ground," he elaborates for Boss.

The directed explanation gets half a smile from Gibbs, who then squints at Tim. "So he's not as good at this as you are?" Boss concludes.

Tim blinks, feeling a slow blush begin in his cheeks and wishing Tony would offer up a joke to make light of Boss' words rather than standing still beside him, seeming as equally expectant as Gibbs. "I, well," Tim falters, still too accustomed to bowing to the virtue of modesty to easily accept the stark compliment from _Boss_ of all people. On the other hand, Boss is the one whom Tim really needs to understand his contribution to the team.

Tim licks his lips and ignores the heat rising in his face as best he can and levels his gaze at Gibbs. "No, not many people are," he comes back just as bluntly.

Boss nods readily as if Tim's telling him something he already knows. All of a sudden there's an extra crinkle at the edge of Boss' eye, the one he gets when he's smiling even though his lips haven't moved. Tim feels his back straighten at the inherent approval.

Gibbs tilts his head and walks around the desk to stand in front of Tim. Then Boss squints, stalling just as he's obviously about to order McGee downstairs for what will likely be the duration of the case. "Tim—" Gibbs steps towards him, but McGee interrupts.

"I like the field, Boss, and I want to keep developing my skills there," Tim lowers his voice in deference to the slighter-than-usual distance between them and the rare private tone that Boss has given to the conversation with the use of Tim's first name, "but that doesn't mean I don't know when I have skills that are needed elsewhere."

Boss nods at him and smiles—well for Gibbs it's a smile—giving Tim a heavy and quick pat on the shoulder, and maybe Tim flatters himself to think so, but he's pretty sure he spots pride in Gibbs' eyes just before he hustles down the hallway.

Tony's furrowed brow is the last thing McGee sees before he practically bounces down to Abby's lab. Tim winks at him to try to stall his friend's concern over Tim's upcoming close quarters with Abby. With the warmth of Gibbs' hand on his shoulder and the shared humor and closeness with Tony—even with his and Tony's conflict with Ziva back at the crime scene—Tim feels practically untouchable right now. He's actually not worried about backsliding in his progress in getting over Abby at all in this moment. It's funny, but in some ways he's less in control of his life than he's ever been, but he's never felt so confident and ready to take whatever's coming next. The grin stretches all the way across Tim's face even before he hits the stairs to make his way down to the basement.

Tim vaguely recognizes the music Abby's got rocking her speakers as _Death Splotch _or maybe _Death's Botched_—a group he'd gone to see with her three years ago when he'd still been trying to impress upon her how he could be as open to new experiences as the next person. He grins at the memory now, realizing how very out of place he'd been at the time in his sneakers and jeans where everyone around him wore heeled boots and leather.

"Hey, Abs," he greets her happily, just realizing how much he's missed her these past few weeks.

"Oh, hey, McGee," she says, that tentative look from last week asserting itself on her face again before she turns back around to her monitors.

He tilts his head at her, trying to find the source of her upset. He licks his lips when he falls upon the most obvious conclusion. "Hey, I'm sorry about not making it down here lately," he furrows his brow at her back.

"No big deal," she shrugs, twisting backward as she does, but not quite trying to look at him.

He takes a few soft steps towards her, places the box of new evidence on the corner of her workstation. "Got a new puzzle for us," he tries to lure her into conversation with the promise of a new riddle.

"Us?" Her cringe is barely within his view.

"Yeah," he narrows his eyes at her, suddenly confused at her what seems to be her pronounced reaction to his absence. "Unless, of course, you'd rather I took this over to Peterson's lab in the next building," he teases maybe a little heavy-handedly, just trying to get a reaction.

Abby's head shoots up, startled at the very mention of her rival lab within the Yard. "You want to work with that two bit imposter?" she asks, incredulous.

"I'll finish collecting the data faster if I work with somebody on this laptop," he lifts the evidence box filled with the computer and electronic equipment he and Tony found, "but I don't need help with this, Abby," he points out with only a touch of ego but a lot of bewilderment.

She lifts her chin. "Don't be ridiculous. MIT only teaches so much," the put down's not completely formed when Tim interrupts.

"Yeah," he squints at her, studying her face to try to see beyond the mask she's projecting to find what's really pissing her off. "The rest you catch by doing," he tilts his head deliberately, alluding to how often he's accomplished this very same task—both with and without her. "So are you with me or not?" he puts it to her, realizing he's just the receptacle for her anger and wondering if he should try to make a run for Peterson's lab, wondering if he really could convince himself to walk away from her misdirected bad mood in any case.

Her lips purse just a touch, and her own pride gets the best of her. She nods. "Fine," she tells him, flicking a hand towards the free space on the next table in reluctant acceptance.

He unloads the broken bits of the laptop, exhales heavily. Apparently it's going to be a long day.


	23. Chapter 23

Thank you to xenascully, DrAngelBean, noonanna, Carneu, BellaHickenbottom, megamom2, Crawcolady, HidingLight, DS2010, Silverfox588, Gottahavemyncis, luv-blonde-bunny, Jesslovesdensi, astragail for your kind reviews.

Thank you especially to Precious Pup.

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><p><strong>Chapter 23<strong>

Tim's absence from the bullpen makes Tony feel, well, not _lonely_ but not _not_ lonely, either, for the rest of the day, especially with Ziva's eyes casting daggers at him every few minutes. Though, to be fair about it, it probably doesn't help the situation that he laughs out loud every now and again whenever he remembers Ziva's hilarious misuse of the word 'teabag.'

Gibbs calls it a day for the team around six o'clock. Tony and Ziva exhausted the only leads they had—which didn't amount to much since Carmen Lerner's interview revealed how very low she was on that criminal totem pole, and the new crime scene really didn't yield that much in the way of new evidence. The only real lead that remains falls mainly to Tim at this point. And Abby, of course.

Gibbs goes down to check on Abby and Tim's progress before he leaves. Tony knows Boss hadn't understood whatever Tim told him when Tim called up from the lab with a progress report, but Gibbs kept hearing Tim out during each update, even during Probie's more detailed use of his mumbo jumbo—Tony can always tell when Tim's talking tech to Gibbs, even when he can't hear Tim, because Boss gets this squinty-constipated look about him. That careful way Gibbs has been considering Tim's input and contributions during this case makes Tony sigh with relief because it's obvious how much they're both trying to make this work.

As Tony makes his way out the door himself that evening, he's hyperaware of the way Ziva's still following and analyzing his actions. The anger, and even the hurt he feels coming off her in waves don't bother him as much as not knowing what she sees and thinks when she looks at him and Tim. Tony may love Ziva more than practically any other woman he's ever known, but Tony also _really _likes having Tim to himself. He likes that open and inviting look Tim gets about his whole body anymore when the two of them are alone together—with or without a woman there between them—and he doesn't want to share that sweet closeness between him and Tim with anyone. Not even Ziva.

A million other thoughts compete for dominance in Tony's head even as the worry over Tim's relationship with Boss eases, and as Tony tries to figure out whether Ziva's problem is going to turn into a problem for him and Tim.

_Tim was planning on making an offer on the condo today_, Tony considers as he makes his way down to the garage. Tony wonders if Tim had a chance to call his realtor what with working such long hours in Abby's lab today. _Unlikely_, he imagines and can't help but to be disappointed at the lack of progress.

Tony's thoughts don't drift away from Tim at all on the ride home. The moment he sits behind the wheel, Tony sighs at the thought of Tim and Abby working so closely together today. A month ago, Tim barely spoke of Abby, but it was an obvious effort for him to remain mute about her. Lately, it seems like Tim's silence on that subject has changed in quality, like maybe Tim just has less to say about her, and while Tony understands, really he does, that a few weeks of hanging out with a buddy, being close to one another, and having some (oh my gosh, smokin' hot) sex can get a guy's mind off what's bothering him, he also knows it's not a permanent solution to the overall problem.

So what is the permanent solution? Tony shakes his head. If he knew, he'd certainly be leading Tim in that direction.

The worst thing is, the more time he spends with Tim outside work—and seriously, before these last several weeks, Tony hadn't thought about how much time he was spending alone—the more he realizes how right Abby was about how well and truly _wrong_ she is for Tim. It's a lot more pressure knowing just how important it is to get this right, to help Tim move on from what really was a bad situation for him because while it's perfectly apparent now that Tim enjoys a hot night out, it's also obvious that he prefers to stick closer to home, or at least to keep to something more casual, during the rest of the week. By contrast, Tony's pretty sure Abby could go to a concert—possibly two—every single night.

Additionally, there's that intensity Tim gets about him—especially in the bedroom—and sure, Abby likes attention, but she likes it from everyone. She's never seemed to want anything steady in all the time Tony's known her, and he has a hard time imagining her giving over to Tim's single-mindedness, letting it flow over her, seep right into her, and answering him in kind. She'd shy away from it every time. Tony's sure of it.

They really are completely incompatible, and Tony has absolutely no idea why Tim's been stuck on her for so long. Maybe it goes back to what Tim said to him that first Saturday night, before anything had even happened between them, maybe Tim just wanted to be in love so badly that he took the nearest thing he ever felt to it and ran with it.

Tony clears his throat and wrinkles his nose. That doesn't really sound like Tim on the other hand. He's more of a stand-up guy than any three people Tony's ever met, Gibbs excluded, though, of course ('cause Boss is a category all his own). Tony doesn't really believe that Tim would latch onto something, to someone, if he didn't feel sincerely attached.

A twinge of guilt zips through Tony's gut as he recalls the conversation he'd had with Abby a few weeks back. At the time, it seemed kind of, maybe a little okay to manipulate her into giving Tim some breathing room because Tim had needed it so desperately and because he was so miserable, and it's not like Abby ever really _wanted_ Tim anyway. Not really. Not for keeps, and when had Tim ever _not_ played for keeps? Never, hello! Tony's sure, even now, that his teeny tiny little white lie was good for Tim.

He's mostly sure.

But what if Tim finds out now after everything? Tim hates to be manipulated, and the only times Tim has ever been truly angry at Tony has been when Tony's manipulated a situation—like that whole thing where he told Tim not to volunteer to go to Iraq a few years ago. Tony accidentally downloaded a virus right after he got back and for three months afterward, Tim refused to help Tony get rid of it, and even though the whole honeybadger video was somewhat hilarious at first, Tony was enormously sick of Randall and his video after less than a month of his computer locking up and playing it every time he opened or saved or changed a webpage or document of any kind.

Tony leans back in his seat, stalls getting out of the car. What would Tim do if he found out how Tony intervened with Abby? Would Tim stop this whole thing between them? Would he throw all of this away? Tim doesn't normally hold a grudge, but when he does, he does it better than anyone Tony knows.

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><p>It's after eleven o'clock before Tim gives up for the night. Abby's stubbornness leads her to stay with him the whole time despite the fact that she can't help much while he's still on the primary reconstruction. Her strengths in recovery tend to show up when they get down to the code itself.<p>

Despite the fact that he's always had a better understanding of the earlier parts of restoration than Abby, she keeps dogging him the entire day about how she would have approached this or that differently than he was. She even goes so far as to question the quality of his work, which is so completely unprofessional and just totally unlike her.

Halfway through the evening, he suggests a dinner break. McGee had thought perhaps it wasn't just him that was bothering Abby but maybe she was going through a bad break up, or hell maybe her favorite band was dissolving for all Tim knew. He tries to broach the subject with her, but every time he does, he gets cut off at the knees. It's like they were never even friends at all. He finally stops bothering to try to talk to her around seven o'clock, and by the end of the night, Tim is so irritated with her that he can barely stand to look at her.

He considers picking up drive-thru for a quick snack on the way home but decides he's not going to let Abby push him towards chicken mcnuggets. He gives himself a mental pat on the back as he passes the McDonalds without even slowing down.

He showers as soon as he gets home but can't relax enough to even lie down, let alone go to sleep. He reconsiders food. One power bar shouldn't be too bad for him, especially if he's not going to be able to sleep for a while. _Eh_, he shrugs at the thought because although his stomach's aching just a little, Tim honestly doesn't want to eat. He glances at his computer and considers his other major vice. He dismisses the thought immediately, knowing a first person shooter will just rev him up, not calm him down.

He even considers a jog, but without Jethro to watch his back, the risk of a midnight run is a little unreasonable for anyone who isn't Gibbs. He shakes his head, wishing for the umpteenth time that he had enough room for a treadmill in his apartment. At least when he gets his new place it'll have plenty of space for everything he needs.

McGee grabs his phone from his nightstand. He bites his lip, and decides on sending a text, just to see if Tony's awake.

_Still up?_ he types.

His cell rings less than a minute later.

"Hey," Tony's voice comes across the line as soon as Tim greets him. "I wondered if you were ever going to get home."

Tim sighs, his shoulders loosening just a touch at Tony's sleepy tones. "You and me, both," he mutters.

"Bad day at the office, honey?" And Tim can almost see the smirk on Tony's face.

"You have no idea," he swipes his hands over his eyes. "I thought I was going to strangle Abby by the end of the night."

"What? Why?" Tony's voice abruptly sounds more awake, almost alarmed even.

"Aaah," Tim waves a hand in front of himself, as if to sweep away Tony's unease. "It's like she was on a campaign to try to make me dislike her." Tim shakes his head in disbelief. "I have no idea what set her off, but she's never acted like that before, let alone for hours at a time. I tried to get her to talk to me about it, but she got even worse then."

"Hunh," Tony's muffled sound just barely makes it to Tim's ear.

"Yeah, it was weird."

"Did you, uh," Tony hesitates, "notice anything different otherwise?"

"Mmm," Tim considers and walks into his bedroom, sitting heavily on his bed. "Oh, wait," he straightens up, "are we talking about _feelings_?"

"Hey, you're the metrosexual, McManicure, not me."

"Humph," Tim tries to huff, but he's pretty sure his smile comes through regardless. Then he considers the question honestly. "I'd missed her these last few weeks," Tim admits, "but—"

"But?" Tony interrupts like he can't stand to wait for the answer.

"But even before she starting laying into me, I felt," he pauses as he considers, "I don't know, maybe freer?"

"Yeah?" And when Tony's soft voice echoes lightly in Tim's ear, he's certain the older man is lying down.

Tim leans back on his own bed. "Yeah," he answers, and even as he speaks, Tony's soft tones stick with him, reminding Tim of what he's been trying not to think too much about since their confrontation in the elevator yesterday—that this thing between them is as new for Tony as it is to him. Tim can't help but wonder if it's as special to Tony as it is to him, too.

"So you think, um, you think it's because of Saturday nights?" Tony comes back tentatively.

"Well, it's more than just Saturday nights," Tim contradicts because this thing going on between them is _so_ much more. "It's a lot of things. I mean we have Sunday's at Porquois Pas, and this whole thing between me and Gibbs is finally getting better, and then there's finding a new place—"

"Oh!" Tony interrupts. "Did you call the realtor today?"

"Yes, Tony," Tim intones. "She thinks the owner will take the money and run, but it also has to go through the banks, so there's no telling how long it could be."

"Hmm," Tony hums, slightly disappointed.

"I should still be able to move within a few months though," Tim tries to turn around Tony's mood.

"Yeah," Tony's tone lifts just a touch. "It'll give us enough time to look for furniture, at least. You are in desperate need of a good sofa, Probie," he adds.

Tim lifts a hand to his abs, resting it on that spot right above his navel that Tony's hand keeps finding. "I kinda like your couch, actually."

"Want me to sell it to you?" Tony teases.

"No," Tim feels the blush rise up his chest, and he's glad Tony can't see him right now. "I just meant it'd look nice in my living room," and somehow, as innocuous as he knows that statement to be, it just makes Tim's blush even worse.

"Well, we could always move in. Me and my sofa," Tony clarifies, but the chuckle Tim would expect in Tony's voice at those words is noticeably absent.

"There's room," Tim blurts out before he can lose his nerve.

Tony stays silent on the other end of the line, and Tim cringes, wondering how he might backpedal this conversation to safer ground. God—of course Tony wouldn't want to live with him! He'd never have a break from Tim if he did!

"Well, I do like that kitchen," Tony finally says before Tim can find a single word to say.

Tim bites his lip, breath slowly releasing even before he realizes he's been holding it. "It's not like I cook, anyway," Tim shoots for a casual tone, but he's too excited to be able to tell how well it's come across.

"I'll have to make you my chicken cacciatore after we get settled in. The secret's in the herbs," he reveals.

"Mmm," Tim rubs a lazy thumb against his stomach, smile spanning across his cheeks with more than simple relief. "Sounds good to me."

Tony chuckles, low and thick in Tim's ear. "You'll never be able to eat another Lean Cuisine again," he threatens.

"If you're cooking, then why would I need to?" Tim asks, still feeling that chuckle resonating between them.

"Got that right, Probie," and the nickname has never sounded so good as it does right now with Tony's soft whisper in Tim's ear.

And all of a sudden, Tim can feel his breathing change again. He pulls his mouth away from the phone a second, clears his throat. "You, uh, you getting coffee tomorrow?" Tim asks even though he already knows.

"Yeah," Tony answers, inflection rising so it's almost a question.

"Could you get me a breakfast sandwich? The one with the—"

"I know what you like," Tony interrupts him.

"Oh," and for a second Tim can't think of anything else to say. He finally comes up with, "Thanks."

"No problem," and Tim can hear the faint slick sound of Tony licking his lips. "I'll see you in the morning," Tony tells him, and hangs up the phone a few seconds after he normally would have.

"Good night," Tim thinks to say once Tony can't hear him anymore.

Tim licks his own lips again, mouth suddenly dry. He can't say the conversation lets him relax enough to go to sleep, but the jerking off he does right afterward puts him out like a light.


	24. Chapter 24

Posted with thanks to HidingLight, luv-blonde-bunny, girlface, Gottahavemyncis, Silverfox588, DS2010, Thatsallwegot, 68luvcarter, Cute Blue Eyes, Jesslovesdensi, RandomJayjay, GibbsTonyZivaTim, noonanna, meri47, and xenascully for reviewing!

This chapter is dedicated to Precious Pup. Congratulations, my friend :-D!

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><p><strong>Chapter 24<strong>

By chance, he meets up with Tony in the parking lot just before seven o'clock when they pull into adjacent spots on the fourth floor of the garage. And, okay, Tony is Tim's friend, so it's not really surprising that Tim's glad to see him, but Tim really kind of wants to hug Tony when he hands over Tim's large coffee and a chicken, tomato, and cheese sandwich on an English muffin. Tim almost never gets sandwiches with cheese anymore because of the added fat content, but his mouth waters at even the thought of the slice of processed American.

He thanks Tony between bites as they travel down the garage's elevator, over to NCIS's main entrance, through the checkpoint, until they make it to the stairwell where they need to part. Tony's laughing at him more than a little as Tim exuberantly stuffs his mouth the whole way, but it's a happy sound, one Tim feels a part of.

"Told you I knew what you liked," Tony lightly smacks Tim's belly with the back of his hand.

Tim's chewing the last bite, so he simply offers a closed-mouth smile conceding the point.

"See you later, Tim," Tony readjusts his grip on a doughnut bag and the beverage carrier that holds the rest of the team's coffees. He works his way to the elevator while Tim juggles his hands to wave goodbye and toss the empty wrapper before he takes the stairs down.

When Tim reenters Abby's lab in the morning, he's actually in a good mood despite yesterday's catastrophic attempt at working together.

"Morning, Abby," he says, not really caring so much if she greets him back.

She twists her back around to look at him, and when she spots his singular coffee and the emptiness of his other hand, she lifts her chin and jerks right back to her computer.

"McGee," she just barely acknowledges him.

And maybe Tim's become as perverse as Tony is, but he's glad to get that attitude from her this morning, actually hyped to feel her outrage—her sincerely felt outrage—that he didn't pick her up anything before he came into her lab. He hangs onto her irritation in his mind, a part of him loving the distance it creates between them because, the thing is, he doesn't mind feeling apart from her right now. Maybe he won't ever again mind feeling this space she's always kept between them. Maybe he'll even want to pursue the gap himself.

Even though Tim honestly wants to try to keep his friendship with Abby, and even though he'd shoved all his unformed concerns and insecurities Tony's way a month ago in order to keep that part of his and Abby's relationship going, Tim knows for certain that he's not prepared anymore to sacrifice parts of himself to try to keep her happy and to try to keep himself in her graces anymore.

It probably stems a little from vindictiveness if Tim's honest with himself, but Tim eats up this moment and the simple knowledge that he doesn't want Abby _at all_ right now.

He takes one last long sip of his coffee and places it on the side table away from the evidence. He stands over the bits of electronics, grabs his tester and his soldering iron, though not at the same time, and he gets to work.

He listens to Abby stomp around as he checks out one of the smaller fragments. When he doesn't turn to acknowledge her irritation, she grabs her remote and pumps the stereo to max. He winces immediately, nearly lands the hot solder on his cheek as he instinctively attempts to cup his ears.

"Abby!" he twists and hollers, and even though it's doubtful anyone could hear above the current decibel level, Tim _knows_ that she's deliberately ignoring him.

His lips pinch together so hard he feels them aching past whiteness. He sets the hot iron down as carefully as he can, then walks calmly to the stereo and yanks the plug out of the wall.

"McGee!" Abby hollers, anger written in every crevice of her face as he cuts the juice.

Tim tilts his chin, examining her face a moment. "Abby," his eyelids flick down as he thinks of what he wants to say. "I don't know what's wrong," he shakes his head, gaze back on her. "And the thing is, I really don't care," he chuffs his exasperation as her brow crinkles even more. "But this ends here."

She narrows her eyes, "Does it really, McGee?"

"Um," he shrugs in confusion. "Yes?" and it's a question because he's suddenly realizing that they're probably not talking about the same things.

"You've said that before, and you've never been able to follow through! But it's too much, now! I want to be your friend, but you have to understand! I just don't want the same things you do!" and it's back to those pleading eyes of Abby's, but, all of a sudden, they have absolutely no effect on McGee.

Then her words really register, "Wait, what?" he squints in his confusion. "What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

She tucks her chin in, as if surprised at his curse. "Tony told me everything," she confesses knowingly.

All the air rushes from Tim's lungs, making him feel completely empty. "He, he told you? Everything?" His eyes go to ground, trying to find it there beneath him. "I can't believe—" and Tim's never felt so horribly exposed in his life, like every nerve in his body hits the air at once, and he can feel every molecule of it burning against him.

"McGee, I just—" Abby winces anew. "You have to know this isn't going to end well," she says softly, but the truth is, Tim's been trying hard not to imagine this thing with Tony ending at all.

He hears her shuffle her feet in the silence between them. "I'm sorry, McGee," and Abby honestly sounds apologetic, a far cry from the attitude she's spit out at him for the last couple days, but Tim can barely even hear her voice over his heart thrumming in his ears.

She takes a few tentative steps towards him, rubs her hand against the bare skin of his forearm, and her sympathy hurts, but he almost welcomes the distraction as he tries to keep his mind away from the intimate things Tony must have told Abby. "You're a great guy, McGee, but you need to understand that not everybody wants the whole picket fence and the poetry slams and the 2.5 kids," and he doesn't even need to look up to know she's cringing at the thought of all those things. "I'm sorry," she tells him again. "But the truth is, I'll never want them."

He squints as he plays back Abby's words, and then, inexplicably, even without verification of Tim's growing suspicion, his stomach untwists by a hair. Tim steps right up to her toes, needing desperately to know: "I—what exactly did Tony tell you?"

She purses her lips, playing up those wounded eyes, obviously desperate to move on but ready to hash this out between them if she has to. "He told me you wanted to try a relationship between us again."

Tim turns away from her, runs his hand through his hair, feeling Abby's words like a balm over his whole body. _Of course_ Tony would never betray him. "When did he tell you that?" Tim finally asks as he faces her again, feeling giddy with sensation as his heart calms and the fevered synapses in his brain slow down.

Abby shakes her head, confusion sliding all over her features. "I don't know. Maybe a month ago?" she squints, not quite certain.

And in that second, it all snaps into place for Tim—the way Abby accepted his prolonged absence from her lab without question, the way she hadn't pushed him into personal conversation, even the way she's been trying to irritate him for the last couple days. It had all given Tim the time and space that he needed to start moving forward. _Tony_ had given Tim the time and space he needed to move on with his life. Tim sucks in a breath, and suddenly, his skin doesn't feel as tight as it had a second before.

Abby's brow crinkles. "Wait, was that not—did Tony _lie_ to me?"

Tim grabs hold of both her arms and leans in to kiss that little sign of irritation between her eyes. "Abby, I love you," he leans back as he tells her honestly, and he can't help the smile stretching across his lips. "But Tony helped me realize that it's not in the same way it used to be."

Abby's whole back straightens up at the revelation, and Tim realizes belatedly that he hasn't spoken of his feelings aloud to her in years. "Oh!" she blinks, her concentrated surprise written all over her body. "I—" she shakes her head and her mouth snaps shut, her lips pursing together the second they make contact.

Tim winces. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to put any of this on you." His eyes slip sideways as he stretches a hand to scratch at the back of his neck. "I mean, you know that I—of course we haven't really spoken of it in years so maybe you thought I didn't—"

"McGee!" Abby interrupts sharply, bringing his eyes back to her face. "Chill!" she orders, the word sounding harsh and slightly off balance. McGee winces, realizes immediately how unfair it is of him to shove the weight of his feelings and insecurities at her, even after the fact.

"Look, I'm sorry, Abby." He ducks his head and tries to catch her eye, but the moment between them is so loaded and awkward that Abby just keeps on avoiding his gaze. "I never meant to make you feel bad about any of this. I know my feelings were just _my_ feelings, and I didn't want to hold the fact that you didn't have the same sorts of feelings for me against you."

Her whole body stiffens up, and her words seem just as unwilling to give, "So you thought _lying_ to me was the best way to avoid that?"

"Of course not, Abby," he shakes his head. "I didn't—" Tim cuts himself off, just realizing that insisting on his lack of involvement in the lie would sell Tony upstream. "It wasn't intentional," he settles on instead, feeling how lame the explanation is even as it crosses his lips.

"How is _lying_ not intentional?" she demands.

Tim squints at her at that. Abby's got every right to be angry at them for the subterfuge, but the magnitude of her outrage seems unfair to him. He bites the side of his lip, and reconsiders the woman in front of him, feeling suddenly and almost deliciously free of the tempest of her displeasure. Immediately, though, he feels guilty for acknowledging how good it feels to be untangled from the storm of her emotions.

"I had feelings for you for a really long time, and I needed to move on with my life," he tells her quietly and with only a bit of regret for her hurt feelings because, "you've wanted me to move on for years," he reminds her. "I'm sorry that a lie to you helped to make it happen, but I'm not sorry with the results."

Her lip quivers, but she turns away from him in haste before he can judge how upset she is at his words.

"Abs?" he queries after the silence goes on longer than he expects it to. "Hey," he says gently and lightly brushes his fingers against her arm.

Immediately she moves away from him. "We have a lot of work to do," she licks her lips and doesn't quite lift her gaze up to his. "I—" she blinks and tucks a nonexistent strand of hair behind her ear while she walks across the room for the lab coat she sometimes wears during reconstructions or other messy ventures. "I'm really upset with you and Tony," she says, still not looking up at him, "but we have to find a way to make this work," she declares with a hesitant sort of nod.

McGee nods back cautiously, though she isn't looking his way. Still, for maybe the first time in all the time he's known her, Tim doesn't feel as though the responsibility for working a problem out between them is unfairly distributed to rest more heavily onto his own shoulders.


	25. Chapter 25 NSFW

For JB. You are remembered.

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><p>This chapter <strong>NSFW.<strong>

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><p><strong>Chapter 25<strong>

Even going by the little bit of data the Wonder Twins have pulled from the trashed laptop so far, it's apparent that Leo Martin really had been the tech support behind the kiting scheme, and even the sparse information they've got makes for a long night for everybody because it also looks like some of the bank personnel in the various NEX locations who'd been involved with the crimes had been blackmailed into being a party to them.

The team still only has a couple names to go on at this point, and Tony's been working the facial recognition software on a dozen or more people from pictures on the laptop. He manages one hit the first time out—even without Tim's assistance with the program (which Tony will reluctantly admit he sometimes has the tendency to crash). A picture speaks a thousand words for Lieutenant Terrence Campbell whose lips are locked and whose body's entwined in at least a hundred pictures with another fit man whose posture and physique scream military but whom Tony can't yet identify. Tony winces at the problem it poses for the lieutenant because even with the recent change in the UCMJ and the overturning of DADT, there's no denying that gay military personnel have a whole 'nother load of baggage that their straight counterparts don't have to deal with.

Tony supposes, as he shuffles through Campbell's financials, the Technicolor proof of the lieutenant's love affair still spread across his desk, that it's not that huge a leap to make Tony think of Tim and all the places the two of them could have been caught together already if anyone had bothered to follow them. The hotel they've recently come to frequent especially comes to mind, and although the thought of being, well, outed he supposes is the best word even though that would imply a different sort of relationship between them, doesn't really bother Tony as much as he thought it would, the real issue is what happens if Gibbs finds out?

Maybe if Boss knew a few details of the situation, he would understand that it doesn't have to be a big deal, though it's hard to imagine how Gibbs might react to the whole thing. As far as Tony can tell, Gibbs' point in enforcing Rule #12 has always been to make sure that sex doesn't interfere with the team's ability to work together, and since Tim and Tony's solid friendship has always been the basis of their (also) solid working relationship, then Gibbs would _have_ to see that this thing Tony's got with Tim is okay. It's not like he and Tim are dating _exactly_ in any case, and sure, Tony doesn't know what to call it, but whatever else is going on between he and Tim right now, Tony _knows_ that the friendship they have at the base of this thing can never die. Sure, Tim might make Tony grovel over this or that or whatever every now and again (and Tony's eyes have completely been peeled for the last two days trying to see if Abby's told Tim about Tony's _teeny _tiny, little white lie), Tim would never just throw him away. In fact, Tim's literally the only person in Tony's life who has never walked away from him, and Tony's going to do whatever he has to so that Tim can keep up with his streak.

Tim finishes for the night at about the same time as Tony, and it's early enough to catch a late dinner, though Tony doesn't quite feel up to schooling Tim at Panarino's. He invites Tim to his place for Chinese instead.

Tim smiles and accepts the invite right away. He follows Tony to the older man's apartment, and they call their order in to Wong's.

They pop Goodfellas into the Blueray because you really can't go wrong with DeNiro after a long, hard day at the office. The delivery kid knocks on the door just as DeNiro's character shoots a made man in the trunk of Ray Liotta's car.

"I never understood this movie," Tim confesses as he stuffs his face with tangy shrimp and vegetables.

"What's not to understand?" Tony talks around a mouthfull of sweet and sour chicken. "Gangsters, brotherhood, betrayal," he lists. "This film's got it all."

Tim swallows a particularly big bite of sugar snap peas and rice, "Half the movie—three quarters of the movie," he corrects himself, "is comprised of gratuitous violence. The last quarter is Ray Liotta's voice over." Tim shrugs, "Eh."

"Eh?" Tony shakes his head. "Did you seriously just 'eh' one of the greatest mob movies of all time?"

Again Tim shrugs, but this time there's a tinge of a smile flirting with his lips. He looks right at Tony. "Eh," he repeats, a twinkle in his eye.

Tony feels his own lips trying to curl in response. He twists his hips and sets a bent leg along the couch, facing Tim's challenge. "This movie is first and foremost about seduction," and okay, maybe it's a little more about entrapment and guilt and betrayal, but temptation is the first thing that comes to Tony's mind right now. "Ray Liotta may be a sickly kid at the start of the film, but in the mafia, he's powerful and respected, and yeah, Joe Pesci may have been a shoe shine boy—not that I ever would have called him that," Tim smirks across the way, "but he demands respect with every punch and every pull of his trigger," Tony continues as Tim sets his elbow on the back of the sofa. "And then there's Robert DeNiro as Jimmy Conway—he systematically takes out first, his competition, and then his friends, for profit. They were each tempted by something just out of their reach, and they didn't care how they got it."

"Tony," Tim ducks his head a little more, lowering his voice and pinching an eye halfway shut, "it doesn't even have a real plot to follow."

"It's not about the plot, Probie," Tony pops out those 'p's. "It's about the feeling you get when you watch it. You succumb to Henry's attraction to the mafia. You _understand_ the high he has from the privileges he gets with the job, and then you feel the walls close in on you as his friends die, and he's got nowhere to go but to the enemy."

"The FBI," Tim purses his lips like he's holding back his laughter.

"Exactly!" Tony claps and points right at Tim.

Probie gives in to his chuckle at Tony's conclusion. "Guess I can't argue with that."

Tony beams at Tim's apparent conversion.

"But Tony," Tim leans in and whispers, "I kind of just like it for the gratuitous violence." Tim tilts his head and looks up at Tony through flirty lashes.

Tony can't stop the grin from running rampant across his cheeks. "I knew you were a regular guy all along, Probie," he swears.

Head bouncing in mock agreement, Tim crinkles his nose and glances back toward the screen. Tony hears the gunshot and subsequent thump of a body falling, but he can't remember who should be dying about now as he watches the play of light from the TV flickering across Tim's profile.

They finish their food, continuing to argue about the film's cinematic value the whole time. Tony lets himself consider, only just once or twice, that _this_ is his future—he and Tim arguing on _this_ couch after a long day at the Yard in the apartment they'll share together. He wonders how Tim's thinking about it. _If _he's thinking about it. He hopes it's on Tim's mind. He hopes Tim can't get the thought out of his mind.

As the familiar shade of blue pops back up on the TV screen at the movie's conclusion, Tim stretches where he sits beside Tony on the sofa. Tony gets up and places the disc back in its protective case, trying to think of some stalling tactic so that the night doesn't have to end just yet despite the fact that it's already almost midnight.

When he hears Tim rise behind him, Tony turns back around to face him, forcing a well worn smile to his lips despite his growing melancholy. Tim leans down and picks up the suit jacket he wore to work, slowly pulls both arms through the sleeves.

"Guess I'd better get going," Tim points a thumb past his back towards the front door, but then he hesitates as he rounds the couch to pick up his phone and gun where they rest on the thin table just behind the sofa.

Tony furrows his brow, curious but nonetheless grateful for the delay. He walks over to stand in front of Tim, who tilts his head a little shyly at Tony's scrutiny. And now Tony is desperately interested to know what's on Tim's mind. Tony squints his eyes—just a little—in question.

Tim glances up and spots the look, rolls his head on his neck before he lifts his gaze back up and determinedly sets his eyes to Tony. "I had a talk with Abby today," Tim admits.

Involuntarily, Tony's tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip. Tim seems to focus in on the motion and the nervousness it conveys immediately. "Yeah?" Tony finally asks, not sure that he wants this conversation to continue after all.

"Yeah," Tim nods. "We figured a few things out between us," he chuffs. "You may want to stay on the lookout for a couple weeks, by the way. She was pretty pissed about the lying."

"Tim," Tony purses his lips, not sure if Tim's mad at him, too, for messing around in the space between Tim and Abby's friendship, but Probie steps into him, his proximity silencing Tony at once.

"I wanted, um, to tell you thanks. For looking out for me," Tim clarifies. "I don't know how I would have been able to move on without having that breathing room away from her."

"So you," Tony tilts his head and latches on to the most important aspect of the conversation right away, and he finds he's almost breathless at the revelation, "You're able to move on?"

"Yeah, I was. I did," Tim lifts his brows as though surprised at his own words. "I think I must have been ready to move on for a while," Probie whispers in the small space between them. "I just didn't know how to do it," Tim licks his lips, and, with embarrassment, Tony realizes he knows that's true because he's been staring at them. The older man's eyes flitter downward.

But then Tim raises a hand to Tony's cheek and angles his chin to level with his own.

"I wanted to thank you," Tim repeats, his soft gaze dropping from Tony's eyes to his lips. "Okay?" Tim leans in just a touch, tugs along Tony's jaw just a pinch.

"Okay," Tony whispers back, and then Tim leans in and kisses him, and it feels like Tony's stomach flips right then and there.

He grabs onto Tim's waist by reflex, holding on tight for the ride as Tim gently sucks on his bottom lip and just barely teases inside his mouth. And then Tony darts his tongue into his partner's mouth, feels that suction luring him deeper inside. He gasps for breath, and Tim takes his wide open mouth as an invitation.

Tim steps closer still, pulling their bodies flush against each other. Tony's hands scurry up Tim's body, forcing Tim's arms down when he yanks Tim's jacket right off his shoulders. Tim breaks their kiss, and Tony blinks, his chest suddenly heaving in panic as he realizes where he's trying to lead Tim, where he's desperate to go with this, while Tim's just standing there staring at him.

But then Tim flicks his jacket from his wrists and jerks his hand up and around to the back of Tony's head, forcing his partner's lips right back on his, and Tony breathes his relief against Tim's mouth.

"Ahh!" Tony moans as Tim goes to work on the buttons of his dress shirt, and when he quickly wiggles his hands underneath the fabric, running his fingers down to Tony's abs.

Tony jerks Tim's turtleneck up to his armpits to palm Tim's flanks. He grins when the action causes Tim to groan against his mouth. Tim lifts his arms, and Tony takes his cue to strip the shirt from him. When Tim's hands come back down, he finishes removing Tony's shirt by cupping his palms against Tony's shoulders and following all the way to his wrists when the already loosened cuffs give way and gravity takes over. Then, Tim interlaces their fingers.

"Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly," Tony teases with a tug on both Tim's hands, and Tim steps forward as Tony steps back towards the bedroom.

Tim mouths his way to Tony's ear, "Why Tony?" Probie asks, breath hot against the lobe. "You gonna eat me?" he prods, tone dirtier and deeper than Tony's ever heard from him.

The image comes to Tony so hard and so fast—Tim gasping in the middle of his bed while Tony bends between his thighs and swallows Tim's dick as far down his throat as he can.

"Unh," the grunt escapes Tony at the same time his hips jerk right into Tim's.

"Whoa," Tim catches Tony's hips, breath puffing away from him as he does. He pulls away from Tony enough to study his face over, keeping their hips locked together and still lightly sliding against Tony and driving him crazy even as Tony's cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Tony blinks, and his jaw moves soundlessly, while his brain stutters over what he's just revealed to them both. Tony's never sucked cock before. He's never wanted to, and he can't even imagine why he pictured what he did, let alone why it makes him feel…well, something anyway.

But then Tim just closes the distance between them again, taking Tony's lips without allowing a word of derision or even confusion between them. And Tony's so grateful he gets busy on the buttons of Tim's slacks right away. Gaining a bit of space between their hips, he massages his way along Tim's shorts, then goes back up to the waistband just as they reach the bedroom door. He gets a shuddery moan from Tim when he reaches inside.

Tony teases his fingers against Tim's thighs, reaches down to cup his balls, but then can't resist temptation any longer so he adjusts his arm to wrap his hand around Tim's shaft. He remembers touching Tim's dick before, helping him put on the condom just this past Saturday so they could both fuck Jeannie quicker, but it seems so different now because it's not just a wrap it up and go kind of thing. He can feel Tim jumping up to meet him, twitching and pleading in his hand, and it takes Tony's breath away.

Tim frantically starts pushing against his pants and shorts, getting them halfway down his thighs before Tony's body, so close to his, so entwined with his, prevents him from getting any further with it. Tony lets him go, and his hand's shaking without that solid grip. After kicking off his shoes and stepping out of his pants and drawers, Tim goes for Tony's buckle. Tony slips off his own shoes, and Tim slides Tony's pants down his legs. Tim rests his hands on Tony's hips a moment. Tony watches him swallow hard when he reaches his left hand down and wraps it around Tony's dick.

Tony can't breathe while Tim experiments with a few short tugs, and it's both because it's so good to have Tim's fingers around his shaft and because he needs so much for Tim to be okay with this. Tony wants so hard for Tim to like the feel of his dick as much as Tony likes playing with his.

And then Probie opens his mouth with a pant, and he licks his lips, his hands still experimenting with his grip, and Tony grabs right back at him in relief, and he grabs for Tim everywhere. He wants to touch every part of him all at once, and Tony tries to, and his hands feel crazed to him the way they fly about Tim's skin—in his hair, along his chest, squeezing Tim's ass, gripping his cock. The only thing serving to keep him from going insane is the sensation of Tim's fingers as they run up his flank to just below his armpit.

"Shh. Easy," Tim whispers into Tony's ear, and Tony nods, and he breathes, and he tries to calm down, and he doesn't know what the fuck is wrong with himself.

"Tim, I—" if he'd had half his brain working, Tony would have been mortified at both the way he'd been frantically feeling Tim up and the way his mind had completely shut down.

"Shh," the shape of that sound forms right against Tony's cheek, and the sensation is incredible, and it soothes him and heats him up at the same time. "Come 'ere," Tim steps forward, walking Tony backward and into the bed.

He gently pushes Tony into sitting on the edge, and Tony backs towards the middle as he pulls Tim down with him. Tim follows without reservation, follows Tony up the bed on his hands and knees. Settling his left knee between Tony's thighs, Tim drags his dominant hand down Tony's body to grip Tony's cock once more. Tony tries to reach for Tim as well, but their hands clash right away. Feeling his brow furrow automatically, Tony can't even begin to problem solve before Tim takes over.

"Touch me," Tim orders, lowering his body closer to Tony's. "Touch me while I touch you," and it's obvious Tim's talking about two completely different kinds of contact when Tim guides Tony's right hand to his back, then lets his own fingers blaze a trail back to Tony's dick.

Tony grips Tim's shoulder hard when Probie's palm starts taking it long and tight around Tony's cock. He lifts his right leg, moves it against Tim's left one as Probie tries to keep his balance above Tony. Leaning down to kiss Tony, Tim lowers himself a little more, initiating all sorts of new points of contact. Tony's whole body shudders at the mixing sensations—Tim's mouth moving with his, Tim's body grinding down into his, Tim's tight grip moving faster up and down Tony's shaft, pausing every once in a while to tease the head a little more.

Both of Tony's hands roam right into Tim's hair while Tony's mouth insists on staying locked with Tim's. Tony runs his nails all along the back of Tim's skull, knowing how much Tim loves that. Immediately, Tim's hips jerk into Tony, making Tony gasp and push right up into Tim's grip while Tim's cock pushes back down, hot and hard against him.

Tim takes that as his cue and jerks harder. Tony's hips lift high off the bed, bringing the two of them into fuller contact as he comes all over them both.

Painting kisses across his cheeks and eyelids, Tim wraps his palm around Tony's hip as the older man's breathing calms down. Tony opens his eyes just as Tim nuzzles along his jaw.

"Flip over," Tony demands, and he really fucking likes that shudder that runs through Tim's body at his words.

Tim lifts his head and immediately complies. They switch positions with ease, their bodies poised in a mirror image to what they were a moment ago. Tony lifts his hand to Tim's chest, feeling the rapid heartbeat beneath his fingertips. He leans down and kisses his lips once, then goes for his jaw, down to his neck.

"Tony—" Tim strains his voice in a plea.

Tony's hand's already started moving anyway, and it makes his breath catch anew to wrap his digits around Tim's dick.

"Fuck!" Tim's hips come up to meet Tony's mobile hand as he cusses, and Tony loves the sound of that curse from Probie's sweet lips. He sets his own mouth to Tim's neck—going for the jugular—the better to keep Probie's tongue free and loose. Tony yanks beautiful sounds from Tim's throat while he yanks on Tim's cock.

Tim's hips surge like Tony's had a moment ago, his come covering Tony's hand, and Tony rubs his fingers against one another as if he's never felt semen between his digits before, and he kind of wonders whether Tim's come would taste different from his own.

Tony tries to roll, but Tim tightens his grip about his partner's shoulder. Tony relaxes back into Tim, rests his sticky hand against Probie's hip. When Tim lifts his eyes up to meet Tony's there's something almost surprised in them, and Tony's abruptly taken back to that first night when the two of them took Dana to this same bed. Tim'd had that same look in his eyes after the first time he'd kissed Tony.

"Just reaching for the tissues," he assures Probie.

Tim licks his lips. He blinks a second later when Tony's words seem to register and then loosens his grip around Tony to let him stretch to the nightstand and collect the box of tissues. They clean up quickly, and when they're done, Tony simply tosses the used tissues towards the side of the bed, making Tim's nose wrinkle a touch.

Tony tugs on the edge of the comforter just above Tim's head, and Tim takes his cue and sits up as Tony pulls the bedspread down. They both slip between the sheets a moment later. Tony watches Tim a little curiously when the younger man sidles up close beside him in the bed. Tim keeps his eyes studiously away from Tony's when he lifts his hand and sets it lightly in the middle of Tony's chest.

"Okay?" Tim asks for the second time tonight, his voice wavering more now than it did the first time.

"Yeah," Tony whispers back quietly and brings his own hand to lie atop it.


	26. Chapter 26

With thanks to Cackymn, LaiaJambalaya, 6of7, hostaqueen, marthapreston4, Daemonic angel, remus1, Leiru, julschristine975, blinddivinity, Francis, mcgeeksgirl, madyashiefan, Girlface, noonanna, rigger42, Jebeth, randomplotbunny, HidingLight, Silverfox588, xenascully, DS2010, 68luvcarter, BellaHickenbottom, luv-blonde-bunny, astragail, Thatsallwegot, mandielouluvsewe, Gottahavemyncis, infinimato, grumpyphoenix, shetiger, nevarstar, shertson, MrsCake, Keli, Thraesja,

And Precious Pup

* * *

><p>A distant part of Tim recognizes the sound when the phone rings, but the intonation of the buzzing is slightly off, and as Tim comes to and hears the low thrum of Tony's voice above him, Tim realizes he's in the other man's bed. Tim shifts a bit in between the sheets, luxuriating in the feel of the high thread count cotton against his skin. Against every inch of his skin. Tim furrows his brow as he recognizes his nakedness.<p>

Tim feels the balance in the bed shift twice—once away from him, then towards him.

"Hey, Probie," Tim feels a steady hand against his stomach.

"Mmm?" he lifts his brows as he turns into the touch, enjoying the connection as he pulls his way closer to full consciousness.

Tony chuckles, the sound getting closer as it continues. "Time to get up," Tony rubs that hand along Tim's belly. "Secret service caught a suspected money launderer with ties to the marine squad of one of Leo Martin's blackmail-ees. Gibbs thinks their suspect may be one of the civilians we've been trying to ID from the pictures."

Tim feels his face squinch. He stretches his whole body where he lies, raising his arms, pointing his toes, and arching his back. When he opens his eyes, Tony's blinking at the movement of his body.

Tony points a finger toward the hallway with studied casualness. "I'm going to grab a quick shower, if you don't mind starting the coffee."

Tim nods in acquiescence. He smiles at Tony.

"Alright," Tony nods in return, patting Tim's belly once more, and though he's smiling back down at Tim, there's a furrow to Tony's brow that tells Tim he's not feeling entirely settled. Tim watches, a growing, gnawing lump in his gut, as Tony's jaw locks and the tips of his ears turn red while his eyes drop, unseeing, to the pillow beneath Tim's head. Tony's mouth opens, but Tim doesn't wait for whatever's coming out of it. Instead, he reaches a hand up to Tony's chest, just meaning to extend the connection between them and somehow let Tony know they're standing on even ground before the day gets away from them, but Tim's fingers fan out—entirely without his consent—to skim over the firmness of Tony's right pec. Tim blinks and would've yanked his hand back, but then the hand on his own belly settles itself a little more heavily, and Tony's thumb rubs from Tim's navel to halfway towards his sternum, as if to say, "okay."

The muscles in Tim's belly squirm under Tony's light touch. Tim likes the feel of Tony's fingers there. He likes it a lot.

"Good morning," Tony's words are softer now than just a moment before and the tiny upturn to his lips is just as gentle as his tone.

"Mmm, morning," Tim's mouth returns the smile.

It's between one sleepy blink and the next that Tony pulls in closer. Tim lifts up to meet him by instinct, and the kiss they share is soft, gentle; sweet. It ties Tim to the day more thoroughly than a cup of coffee could.

Tim clears his throat when Tony moves away. A moment later he opens his eyes, just realizing that he'd closed them.

Tony's smile this time is a little off balance and more than a little unsure, but still genuinely pleased. Tim imagines his own expression must be a mirror to his partner's.

"Just gonna—" Tony tilts his head towards the bathroom.

"Right, and I'll—" Tim likewise points a finger towards the kitchen.

Tony follows through with his intentions a few seconds later. Tim exhales heavily once Tony closes the bathroom door behind him. In a minute, Tony's naked body will be under the steady stream from the shower head. The little white suds of the soap will trickle across his skin, and the soft fruity scent of Tony's shampoo will be stronger than Tim's ever smelled it before. Maybe he'd even drop the bottle and while he was down on his knees picking it up, Tim would come in and—

Abruptly Tim sits up, trying desperately to clear his mind, but his thoughts tumble over that blush that bloomed on Tony's cheeks last night and what it might mean, if it could have meant what it seemed to at that time. Did Tony really think about—

_Being on his knees in front of Tim, one hand working Tim's balls while the other stays on Tim's hips, urging Tim to fuck his mouth, wanting as much of Tim's cock down his throat as he could possibly take…_

"Geez!" Tim runs a hand through his hair, shakes his head, and literally jumps out of the bed, only taking the couple extra seconds required to throw on his boxers before running out of the room and to somewhere else where he won't be able to hear the sound of the water droplets cascading across Tony's body.

Tim distracts himself with little tasks after that, making the coffee, finding his clothes in the closet where Tony washed and hung them from the last time he'd stayed over, digging for the poptarts among the haphazardly thrown together staples in Tony's kitchen cabinets. Honestly, who puts pickles and marshmallow cream side by side?

Tony cuts the water off after eight minutes, and Tim can hear him puttering about in the bathroom and then the bedroom for another five. Tim tracks Tony's bare feet treading quietly up behind him as he's carefully sipping at his still too hot cup of brew and grabbing for Tony's favorite caramel flavoring to set beside the milk and sugar already on the counter, just in case Tony feels like the added flavor this morning. He sometimes does.

Tim starts speaking as he turns towards Tony where he hears him by the toaster, "Hey, did you want—"

But Tony's shirtless. _No_, Tim's eyes venture farther down, _not just shirtless_. All he's got on is a medium-sized towel, knotted loosely and low on his hips. Even worse, Tony hadn't bothered to dry off all the way when he finished bathing. His hair's still a bit wet and there are a few scattered droplets of water lazily snaking down his body.

Tim tries to blink away, but his eyes keep jerking back to Tony's chest and up and down his arms and then down past that little towel. Right when he almost regains control of his stare, Tim spies a single bead of water sliding down Tony's neck, racing over the same pec Tim had his palm on not twenty minutes before, and teasing past Tony's abs to disappear as it's absorbed into the cloth of his towel.

It's so quiet in the few feet between them that Tim can hear Tony swallow. That muted click is what snaps Tim out of it. He finds a place on the floor to put his eyes, and he doesn't budge them. He chugs his coffee even though it had barely been cool enough to drink to begin with, and his entire head already feels way too warm with all the blood rushing for his face.

From his peripheral vision he notes Tony stepping closer to him. Tim shifts against the counter, feeling the hard press of the formica lip pushing back uncomfortably against his ass.

Tony doesn't stop until he stands beside Tim and those towel clad hips of his have to be parallel to the counter, not that Tim's going to risk it to check and see this time. There's a moment of quiet while Tony pours his coffee, adding a splash of the caramel flavoring to his cup. Tim sucks in a breath, grateful that Tony's going to let it go, except when Tim tries to take a step forward, Tony stops him with a hand fast and tight on his arm.

Automatically, Tim's eyes seek the pressure, and once he spies the digits griping his forearm, he can't help but to follow the source, up Tony's bicep, past his strong shoulder, traveling up his neck, stuttering beyond Tony's lips to his eyes.

Tim winces and drops his gaze again, "Sorry," he whispers, almost without sound.

"Hey, no!" Tony tightens his grip. "I don't," he tries again, "that's not…"

Tim purses his lips as tightly as he can. He should've tried harder not to imagine Tony in the shower this morning, and he should absolutely have _never_ imagined that Tony's blush last night had meant _anything_.

_I'm such an asshole_, Tim winces.

"Tim," Tony squeezes his arm once more when he hoarsely murmurs back, "It's okay for," Tony shrugs self-consciously, "you know."

Feeling his ears burn brighter, Tim feels panic start to spread throughout his gut, "What?" he squeaks out, ready to deny anything.

A second later, Tony's steadying hand stretches across Tim's bare belly, and he shifts so he's standing less to Tim's side and more to his front. There's a sudden softness—a vulnerability—to the way Tony's fingertips move across his skin, so much so that Tim's dominant hand comes up without a bit of input from him to spur it, to cup Tony's hesitant fingers.

"It's the same thing, right?" Tony licks his lips. "Last night," he shrugs towards the hallway where that brilliantly beautiful blush had first lit up his cheeks on the way to Tony's bed. "This morning," Tony rubs his thumb gently along Tim's belly, his gaze dropping to the barely tied towel at his hips before checking back to his own hand. "It's even, right?" the words soften into a whisper, as if unsure.

"Yes," Tim answers right away, but he isn't certain himself until Tony's eyes come up to meet his in relief, because that's what it takes for Tim to realize that Tony was lingering in embarrassed, too. And if Tony was embarrassed, then _Geez!_ did that mean Tim had been right after all? Did Tony actually _want_ to, well, try new things together?

Tim's arm lifts three quarters of the way up towards Tony's mouth before he blinks back down into reality. "Crap, we're going to be so late," he barely has breath to say, and then the words run from his mouth more easily when he realizes, "Gibbs is going to kill us."

Tony furrows his brow and shakes his head. "Yeah," he lifts his hand from Tim's belly to run his fingers through his darkly wet hair. "You shower," he steps away from Tim and reaches blindly for his coffee on the counter beside him. "I'll get our stuff together, okay?"

Tim nods, "Okay." He scurries towards the hall, but has to turn back when he makes it to the kitchen doorway. "Tony, I," he doesn't want to embarrass the other man any more than what he'd apparently felt last night, but a part of him has to say, "I really liked it, you know, when you," Tim hurriedly glances down the hallway without quite meaning to, "last night."

A light blush hits Tony's cheeks, but he keeps Tim's gaze when he declares right back, "I really liked this morning."

A complementary flush starts its way up Tim's neck. He feels it flower right past his grinning lips and onto his cheeks. Before he turns towards the bathroom to take the fastest morning shower of his life, his last view of the kitchen is centered on Tony's happily, reddened smile.


End file.
